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diff --git a/165-h/165-h.htm b/165-h/165-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3621760 --- /dev/null +++ b/165-h/165-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15904 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Mcteague, by Frank Norris + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of McTeague, by Frank Norris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: McTeague + +Author: Frank Norris + +Release Date: March 12, 2006 [EBook #165] +Last Updated: March 11, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MCTEAGUE *** + + + + +Produced by Pauline J. Iacono and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + McTEAGUE + </h1> + <h1> + A Story of San Francisco + </h1> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Frank Norris + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER 1 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER 2 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER 3 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER 4 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER 5 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER 6 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER 7 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER 8 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER 9 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER 10 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER 11 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER 12 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER 13 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER 14 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER 15 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER 16 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER 17 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER 18 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER 19 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER 20 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER 21 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER 22 </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1 + </h2> + <p> + It was Sunday, and, according to his custom on that day, McTeague took his + dinner at two in the afternoon at the car conductors' coffee-joint on Polk + Street. He had a thick gray soup; heavy, underdone meat, very hot, on a + cold plate; two kinds of vegetables; and a sort of suet pudding, full of + strong butter and sugar. On his way back to his office, one block above, + he stopped at Joe Frenna's saloon and bought a pitcher of steam beer. It + was his habit to leave the pitcher there on his way to dinner. + </p> + <p> + Once in his office, or, as he called it on his signboard, “Dental + Parlors,” he took off his coat and shoes, unbuttoned his vest, and, having + crammed his little stove full of coke, lay back in his operating chair at + the bay window, reading the paper, drinking his beer, and smoking his huge + porcelain pipe while his food digested; crop-full, stupid, and warm. By + and by, gorged with steam beer, and overcome by the heat of the room, the + cheap tobacco, and the effects of his heavy meal, he dropped off to sleep. + Late in the afternoon his canary bird, in its gilt cage just over his + head, began to sing. He woke slowly, finished the rest of his beer—very + flat and stale by this time—and taking down his concertina from the + bookcase, where in week days it kept the company of seven volumes of + “Allen's Practical Dentist,” played upon it some half-dozen very mournful + airs. + </p> + <p> + McTeague looked forward to these Sunday afternoons as a period of + relaxation and enjoyment. He invariably spent them in the same fashion. + These were his only pleasures—to eat, to smoke, to sleep, and to + play upon his concertina. + </p> + <p> + The six lugubrious airs that he knew, always carried him back to the time + when he was a car-boy at the Big Dipper Mine in Placer County, ten years + before. He remembered the years he had spent there trundling the heavy + cars of ore in and out of the tunnel under the direction of his father. + For thirteen days of each fortnight his father was a steady, hard-working + shift-boss of the mine. Every other Sunday he became an irresponsible + animal, a beast, a brute, crazy with alcohol. + </p> + <p> + McTeague remembered his mother, too, who, with the help of the Chinaman, + cooked for forty miners. She was an overworked drudge, fiery and energetic + for all that, filled with the one idea of having her son rise in life and + enter a profession. The chance had come at last when the father died, + corroded with alcohol, collapsing in a few hours. Two or three years later + a travelling dentist visited the mine and put up his tent near the + bunk-house. He was more or less of a charlatan, but he fired Mrs. + McTeague's ambition, and young McTeague went away with him to learn his + profession. He had learnt it after a fashion, mostly by watching the + charlatan operate. He had read many of the necessary books, but he was too + hopelessly stupid to get much benefit from them. + </p> + <p> + Then one day at San Francisco had come the news of his mother's death; she + had left him some money—not much, but enough to set him up in + business; so he had cut loose from the charlatan and had opened his + “Dental Parlors” on Polk Street, an “accommodation street” of small shops + in the residence quarter of the town. Here he had slowly collected a + clientele of butcher boys, shop girls, drug clerks, and car conductors. He + made but few acquaintances. Polk Street called him the “Doctor” and spoke + of his enormous strength. For McTeague was a young giant, carrying his + huge shock of blond hair six feet three inches from the ground; moving his + immense limbs, heavy with ropes of muscle, slowly, ponderously. His hands + were enormous, red, and covered with a fell of stiff yellow hair; they + were hard as wooden mallets, strong as vises, the hands of the old-time + car-boy. Often he dispensed with forceps and extracted a refractory tooth + with his thumb and finger. His head was square-cut, angular; the jaw + salient, like that of the carnivora. + </p> + <p> + McTeague's mind was as his body, heavy, slow to act, sluggish. Yet there + was nothing vicious about the man. Altogether he suggested the draught + horse, immensely strong, stupid, docile, obedient. + </p> + <p> + When he opened his “Dental Parlors,” he felt that his life was a success, + that he could hope for nothing better. In spite of the name, there was but + one room. It was a corner room on the second floor over the branch + post-office, and faced the street. McTeague made it do for a bedroom as + well, sleeping on the big bed-lounge against the wall opposite the window. + There was a washstand behind the screen in the corner where he + manufactured his moulds. In the round bay window were his operating chair, + his dental engine, and the movable rack on which he laid out his + instruments. Three chairs, a bargain at the second-hand store, ranged + themselves against the wall with military precision underneath a steel + engraving of the court of Lorenzo de' Medici, which he had bought because + there were a great many figures in it for the money. Over the bed-lounge + hung a rifle manufacturer's advertisement calendar which he never used. + The other ornaments were a small marble-topped centre table covered with + back numbers of “The American System of Dentistry,” a stone pug dog + sitting before the little stove, and a thermometer. A stand of shelves + occupied one corner, filled with the seven volumes of “Allen's Practical + Dentist.” On the top shelf McTeague kept his concertina and a bag of bird + seed for the canary. The whole place exhaled a mingled odor of bedding, + creosote, and ether. + </p> + <p> + But for one thing, McTeague would have been perfectly contented. Just + outside his window was his signboard—a modest affair—that + read: “Doctor McTeague. Dental Parlors. Gas Given”; but that was all. It + was his ambition, his dream, to have projecting from that corner window a + huge gilded tooth, a molar with enormous prongs, something gorgeous and + attractive. He would have it some day, on that he was resolved; but as yet + such a thing was far beyond his means. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished the last of his beer, McTeague slowly wiped his lips + and huge yellow mustache with the side of his hand. Bull-like, he heaved + himself laboriously up, and, going to the window, stood looking down into + the street. + </p> + <p> + The street never failed to interest him. It was one of those cross streets + peculiar to Western cities, situated in the heart of the residence + quarter, but occupied by small tradespeople who lived in the rooms above + their shops. There were corner drug stores with huge jars of red, yellow, + and green liquids in their windows, very brave and gay; stationers' + stores, where illustrated weeklies were tacked upon bulletin boards; + barber shops with cigar stands in their vestibules; sad-looking plumbers' + offices; cheap restaurants, in whose windows one saw piles of unopened + oysters weighted down by cubes of ice, and china pigs and cows knee deep + in layers of white beans. At one end of the street McTeague could see the + huge power-house of the cable line. Immediately opposite him was a great + market; while farther on, over the chimney stacks of the intervening + houses, the glass roof of some huge public baths glittered like crystal in + the afternoon sun. Underneath him the branch post-office was opening its + doors, as was its custom between two and three o'clock on Sunday + afternoons. An acrid odor of ink rose upward to him. Occasionally a cable + car passed, trundling heavily, with a strident whirring of jostled glass + windows. + </p> + <p> + On week days the street was very lively. It woke to its work about seven + o'clock, at the time when the newsboys made their appearance together with + the day laborers. The laborers went trudging past in a straggling file—plumbers' + apprentices, their pockets stuffed with sections of lead pipe, tweezers, + and pliers; carpenters, carrying nothing but their little pasteboard lunch + baskets painted to imitate leather; gangs of street workers, their + overalls soiled with yellow clay, their picks and long-handled shovels + over their shoulders; plasterers, spotted with lime from head to foot. + This little army of workers, tramping steadily in one direction, met and + mingled with other toilers of a different description—conductors and + “swing men” of the cable company going on duty; heavy-eyed night clerks + from the drug stores on their way home to sleep; roundsmen returning to + the precinct police station to make their night report, and Chinese market + gardeners teetering past under their heavy baskets. The cable cars began + to fill up; all along the street could be seen the shopkeepers taking down + their shutters. + </p> + <p> + Between seven and eight the street breakfasted. Now and then a waiter from + one of the cheap restaurants crossed from one sidewalk to the other, + balancing on one palm a tray covered with a napkin. Everywhere was the + smell of coffee and of frying steaks. A little later, following in the + path of the day laborers, came the clerks and shop girls, dressed with a + certain cheap smartness, always in a hurry, glancing apprehensively at the + power-house clock. Their employers followed an hour or so later—on + the cable cars for the most part whiskered gentlemen with huge stomachs, + reading the morning papers with great gravity; bank cashiers and insurance + clerks with flowers in their buttonholes. + </p> + <p> + At the same time the school children invaded the street, filling the air + with a clamor of shrill voices, stopping at the stationers' shops, or + idling a moment in the doorways of the candy stores. For over half an hour + they held possession of the sidewalks, then suddenly disappeared, leaving + behind one or two stragglers who hurried along with great strides of their + little thin legs, very anxious and preoccupied. + </p> + <p> + Towards eleven o'clock the ladies from the great avenue a block above Polk + Street made their appearance, promenading the sidewalks leisurely, + deliberately. They were at their morning's marketing. They were handsome + women, beautifully dressed. They knew by name their butchers and grocers + and vegetable men. From his window McTeague saw them in front of the + stalls, gloved and veiled and daintily shod, the subservient provision men + at their elbows, scribbling hastily in the order books. They all seemed to + know one another, these grand ladies from the fashionable avenue. Meetings + took place here and there; a conversation was begun; others arrived; + groups were formed; little impromptu receptions were held before the + chopping blocks of butchers' stalls, or on the sidewalk, around boxes of + berries and fruit. + </p> + <p> + From noon to evening the population of the street was of a mixed + character. The street was busiest at that time; a vast and prolonged + murmur arose—the mingled shuffling of feet, the rattle of wheels, + the heavy trundling of cable cars. At four o'clock the school children + once more swarmed the sidewalks, again disappearing with surprising + suddenness. At six the great homeward march commenced; the cars were + crowded, the laborers thronged the sidewalks, the newsboys chanted the + evening papers. Then all at once the street fell quiet; hardly a soul was + in sight; the sidewalks were deserted. It was supper hour. Evening began; + and one by one a multitude of lights, from the demoniac glare of the + druggists' windows to the dazzling blue whiteness of the electric globes, + grew thick from street corner to street corner. Once more the street was + crowded. Now there was no thought but for amusement. The cable cars were + loaded with theatre-goers—men in high hats and young girls in furred + opera cloaks. On the sidewalks were groups and couples—the plumbers' + apprentices, the girls of the ribbon counters, the little families that + lived on the second stories over their shops, the dressmakers, the small + doctors, the harness-makers—all the various inhabitants of the + street were abroad, strolling idly from shop window to shop window, taking + the air after the day's work. Groups of girls collected on the corners, + talking and laughing very loud, making remarks upon the young men that + passed them. The tamale men appeared. A band of Salvationists began to + sing before a saloon. + </p> + <p> + Then, little by little, Polk Street dropped back to solitude. Eleven + o'clock struck from the power-house clock. Lights were extinguished. At + one o'clock the cable stopped, leaving an abrupt silence in the air. All + at once it seemed very still. The ugly noises were the occasional + footfalls of a policeman and the persistent calling of ducks and geese in + the closed market. The street was asleep. + </p> + <p> + Day after day, McTeague saw the same panorama unroll itself. The bay + window of his “Dental Parlors” was for him a point of vantage from which + he watched the world go past. + </p> + <p> + On Sundays, however, all was changed. As he stood in the bay window, after + finishing his beer, wiping his lips, and looking out into the street, + McTeague was conscious of the difference. Nearly all the stores were + closed. No wagons passed. A few people hurried up and down the sidewalks, + dressed in cheap Sunday finery. A cable car went by; on the outside seats + were a party of returning picnickers. The mother, the father, a young man, + and a young girl, and three children. The two older people held empty + lunch baskets in their laps, while the bands of the children's hats were + stuck full of oak leaves. The girl carried a huge bunch of wilting poppies + and wild flowers. + </p> + <p> + As the car approached McTeague's window the young man got up and swung + himself off the platform, waving goodby to the party. Suddenly McTeague + recognized him. + </p> + <p> + “There's Marcus Schouler,” he muttered behind his mustache. + </p> + <p> + Marcus Schouler was the dentist's one intimate friend. The acquaintance + had begun at the car conductors' coffee-joint, where the two occupied the + same table and met at every meal. Then they made the discovery that they + both lived in the same flat, Marcus occupying a room on the floor above + McTeague. On different occasions McTeague had treated Marcus for an + ulcerated tooth and had refused to accept payment. Soon it came to be an + understood thing between them. They were “pals.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague, listening, heard Marcus go up-stairs to his room above. In a few + minutes his door opened again. McTeague knew that he had come out into the + hall and was leaning over the banisters. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac!” he called. McTeague came to his door. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! 'sthat you, Mark?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” answered Marcus. “Come on up.” + </p> + <p> + “You come on down.” + </p> + <p> + “No, come on up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you come on down.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you lazy duck!” retorted Marcus, coming down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Been out to the Cliff House on a picnic,” he explained as he sat down on + the bed-lounge, “with my uncle and his people—the Sieppes, you know. + By damn! it was hot,” he suddenly vociferated. “Just look at that! Just + look at that!” he cried, dragging at his limp collar. “That's the third + one since morning; it is—it is, for a fact—and you got your + stove going.” He began to tell about the picnic, talking very loud and + fast, gesturing furiously, very excited over trivial details. Marcus could + not talk without getting excited. + </p> + <p> + “You ought t'have seen, y'ought t'have seen. I tell you, it was outa + sight. It was; it was, for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” answered McTeague, bewildered, trying to follow. “Yes, that's + so.” + </p> + <p> + In recounting a certain dispute with an awkward bicyclist, in which it + appeared he had become involved, Marcus quivered with rage. “'Say that + again,' says I to um. 'Just say that once more, and'”—here a rolling + explosion of oaths—“'you'll go back to the city in the Morgue wagon. + Ain't I got a right to cross a street even, I'd like to know, without + being run down—what?' I say it's outrageous. I'd a knifed him in + another minute. It was an outrage. I say it was an OUTRAGE.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure it was,” McTeague hastened to reply. “Sure, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and we had an accident,” shouted the other, suddenly off on another + tack. “It was awful. Trina was in the swing there—that's my cousin + Trina, you know who I mean—and she fell out. By damn! I thought + she'd killed herself; struck her face on a rock and knocked out a front + tooth. It's a wonder she didn't kill herself. It IS a wonder; it is, for a + fact. Ain't it, now? Huh? Ain't it? Y'ought t'have seen.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague had a vague idea that Marcus Schouler was stuck on his cousin + Trina. They “kept company” a good deal; Marcus took dinner with the + Sieppes every Saturday evening at their home at B Street station, across + the bay, and Sunday afternoons he and the family usually made little + excursions into the suburbs. McTeague began to wonder dimly how it was + that on this occasion Marcus had not gone home with his cousin. As + sometimes happens, Marcus furnished the explanation upon the instant. + </p> + <p> + “I promised a duck up here on the avenue I'd call for his dog at four this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus was Old Grannis's assistant in a little dog hospital that the + latter had opened in a sort of alley just off Polk Street, some four + blocks above Old Grannis lived in one of the back rooms of McTeague's + flat. He was an Englishman and an expert dog surgeon, but Marcus Schouler + was a bungler in the profession. His father had been a veterinary surgeon + who had kept a livery stable near by, on California Street, and Marcus's + knowledge of the diseases of domestic animals had been picked up in a + haphazard way, much after the manner of McTeague's education. Somehow he + managed to impress Old Grannis, a gentle, simple-minded old man, with a + sense of his fitness, bewildering him with a torrent of empty phrases that + he delivered with fierce gestures and with a manner of the greatest + conviction. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better come along with me, Mac,” observed Marcus. “We'll get the + duck's dog, and then we'll take a little walk, huh? You got nothun to do. + Come along.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague went out with him, and the two friends proceeded up to the avenue + to the house where the dog was to be found. It was a huge mansion-like + place, set in an enormous garden that occupied a whole third of the block; + and while Marcus tramped up the front steps and rang the doorbell boldly, + to show his independence, McTeague remained below on the sidewalk, gazing + stupidly at the curtained windows, the marble steps, and the bronze + griffins, troubled and a little confused by all this massive luxury. + </p> + <p> + After they had taken the dog to the hospital and had left him to whimper + behind the wire netting, they returned to Polk Street and had a glass of + beer in the back room of Joe Frenna's corner grocery. + </p> + <p> + Ever since they had left the huge mansion on the avenue, Marcus had been + attacking the capitalists, a class which he pretended to execrate. It was + a pose which he often assumed, certain of impressing the dentist. Marcus + had picked up a few half-truths of political economy—it was + impossible to say where—and as soon as the two had settled + themselves to their beer in Frenna's back room he took up the theme of the + labor question. He discussed it at the top of his voice, vociferating, + shaking his fists, exciting himself with his own noise. He was continually + making use of the stock phrases of the professional politician—phrases + he had caught at some of the ward “rallies” and “ratification meetings.” + These rolled off his tongue with incredible emphasis, appearing at every + turn of his conversation—“Outraged constituencies,” “cause of + labor,” “wage earners,” “opinions biased by personal interests,” “eyes + blinded by party prejudice.” McTeague listened to him, awestruck. + </p> + <p> + “There's where the evil lies,” Marcus would cry. “The masses must learn + self-control; it stands to reason. Look at the figures, look at the + figures. Decrease the number of wage earners and you increase wages, don't + you? don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Absolutely stupid, and understanding never a word, McTeague would answer: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that's it—self-control—that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the capitalists that's ruining the cause of labor,” shouted Marcus, + banging the table with his fist till the beer glasses danced; + “white-livered drones, traitors, with their livers white as snow, eatun + the bread of widows and orphuns; there's where the evil lies.” + </p> + <p> + Stupefied with his clamor, McTeague answered, wagging his head: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it; I think it's their livers.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Marcus fell calm again, forgetting his pose all in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac, I told my cousin Trina to come round and see you about that + tooth of her's. She'll be in to-morrow, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2 + </h2> + <p> + After his breakfast the following Monday morning, McTeague looked over the + appointments he had written down in the book-slate that hung against the + screen. His writing was immense, very clumsy, and very round, with huge, + full-bellied l's and h's. He saw that he had made an appointment at one + o'clock for Miss Baker, the retired dressmaker, a little old maid who had + a tiny room a few doors down the hall. It adjoined that of Old Grannis. + </p> + <p> + Quite an affair had arisen from this circumstance. Miss Baker and Old + Grannis were both over sixty, and yet it was current talk amongst the + lodgers of the flat that the two were in love with each other. Singularly + enough, they were not even acquaintances; never a word had passed between + them. At intervals they met on the stairway; he on his way to his little + dog hospital, she returning from a bit of marketing in the street. At such + times they passed each other with averted eyes, pretending a certain + preoccupation, suddenly seized with a great embarrassment, the timidity of + a second childhood. He went on about his business, disturbed and + thoughtful. She hurried up to her tiny room, her curious little false + curls shaking with her agitation, the faintest suggestion of a flush + coming and going in her withered cheeks. The emotion of one of these + chance meetings remained with them during all the rest of the day. + </p> + <p> + Was it the first romance in the lives of each? Did Old Grannis ever + remember a certain face amongst those that he had known when he was young + Grannis—the face of some pale-haired girl, such as one sees in the + old cathedral towns of England? Did Miss Baker still treasure up in a + seldom opened drawer or box some faded daguerreotype, some strange + old-fashioned likeness, with its curling hair and high stock? It was + impossible to say. + </p> + <p> + Maria Macapa, the Mexican woman who took care of the lodgers' rooms, had + been the first to call the flat's attention to the affair, spreading the + news of it from room to room, from floor to floor. Of late she had made a + great discovery; all the women folk of the flat were yet vibrant with it. + Old Grannis came home from his work at four o'clock, and between that time + and six Miss Baker would sit in her room, her hands idle in her lap, doing + nothing, listening, waiting. Old Grannis did the same, drawing his + arm-chair near to the wall, knowing that Miss Baker was upon the other + side, conscious, perhaps, that she was thinking of him; and there the two + would sit through the hours of the afternoon, listening and waiting, they + did not know exactly for what, but near to each other, separated only by + the thin partition of their rooms. They had come to know each other's + habits. Old Grannis knew that at quarter of five precisely Miss Baker made + a cup of tea over the oil stove on the stand between the bureau and the + window. Miss Baker felt instinctively the exact moment when Old Grannis + took down his little binding apparatus from the second shelf of his + clothes closet and began his favorite occupation of binding pamphlets—pamphlets + that he never read, for all that. + </p> + <p> + In his “Parlors” McTeague began his week's work. He glanced in the glass + saucer in which he kept his sponge-gold, and noticing that he had used up + all his pellets, set about making some more. In examining Miss Baker's + teeth at the preliminary sitting he had found a cavity in one of the + incisors. Miss Baker had decided to have it filled with gold. McTeague + remembered now that it was what is called a “proximate case,” where there + is not sufficient room to fill with large pieces of gold. He told himself + that he should have to use “mats” in the filling. He made some dozen of + these “mats” from his tape of non-cohesive gold, cutting it transversely + into small pieces that could be inserted edgewise between the teeth and + consolidated by packing. After he had made his “mats” he continued with + the other kind of gold fillings, such as he would have occasion to use + during the week; “blocks” to be used in large proximal cavities, made by + folding the tape on itself a number of times and then shaping it with the + soldering pliers; “cylinders” for commencing fillings, which he formed by + rolling the tape around a needle called a “broach,” cutting it afterwards + into different lengths. He worked slowly, mechanically, turning the foil + between his fingers with the manual dexterity that one sometimes sees in + stupid persons. His head was quite empty of all thought, and he did not + whistle over his work as another man might have done. The canary made up + for his silence, trilling and chittering continually, splashing about in + its morning bath, keeping up an incessant noise and movement that would + have been maddening to any one but McTeague, who seemed to have no nerves + at all. + </p> + <p> + After he had finished his fillings, he made a hook broach from a bit of + piano wire to replace an old one that he had lost. It was time for his + dinner then, and when he returned from the car conductors' coffee-joint, + he found Miss Baker waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + The ancient little dressmaker was at all times willing to talk of Old + Grannis to anybody that would listen, quite unconscious of the gossip of + the flat. McTeague found her all a-flutter with excitement. Something + extraordinary had happened. She had found out that the wall-paper in Old + Grannis's room was the same as that in hers. + </p> + <p> + “It has led me to thinking, Doctor McTeague,” she exclaimed, shaking her + little false curls at him. “You know my room is so small, anyhow, and the + wall-paper being the same—the pattern from my room continues right + into his—I declare, I believe at one time that was all one room. + Think of it, do you suppose it was? It almost amounts to our occupying the + same room. I don't know—why, really—do you think I should + speak to the landlady about it? He bound pamphlets last night until + half-past nine. They say that he's the younger son of a baronet; that + there are reasons for his not coming to the title; his stepfather wronged + him cruelly.” + </p> + <p> + No one had ever said such a thing. It was preposterous to imagine any + mystery connected with Old Grannis. Miss Baker had chosen to invent the + little fiction, had created the title and the unjust stepfather from some + dim memories of the novels of her girlhood. + </p> + <p> + She took her place in the operating chair. McTeague began the filling. + There was a long silence. It was impossible for McTeague to work and talk + at the same time. + </p> + <p> + He was just burnishing the last “mat” in Miss Baker's tooth, when the door + of the “Parlors” opened, jangling the bell which he had hung over it, and + which was absolutely unnecessary. McTeague turned, one foot on the pedal + of his dental engine, the corundum disk whirling between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + It was Marcus Schouler who came in, ushering a young girl of about twenty. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Mac,” exclaimed Marcus; “busy? Brought my cousin round about that + broken tooth.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague nodded his head gravely. + </p> + <p> + “In a minute,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Marcus and his cousin Trina sat down in the rigid chairs underneath the + steel engraving of the Court of Lorenzo de' Medici. They began talking in + low tones. The girl looked about the room, noticing the stone pug dog, the + rifle manufacturer's calendar, the canary in its little gilt prison, and + the tumbled blankets on the unmade bed-lounge against the wall. Marcus + began telling her about McTeague. “We're pals,” he explained, just above a + whisper. “Ah, Mac's all right, you bet. Say, Trina, he's the strongest + duck you ever saw. What do you suppose? He can pull out your teeth with + his fingers; yes, he can. What do you think of that? With his fingers, + mind you; he can, for a fact. Get on to the size of him, anyhow. Ah, Mac's + all right!” + </p> + <p> + Maria Macapa had come into the room while he had been speaking. She was + making up McTeague's bed. Suddenly Marcus exclaimed under his breath: “Now + we'll have some fun. It's the girl that takes care of the rooms. She's a + greaser, and she's queer in the head. She ain't regularly crazy, but I + don't know, she's queer. Y'ought to hear her go on about a gold dinner + service she says her folks used to own. Ask her what her name is and see + what she'll say.” Trina shrank back, a little frightened. + </p> + <p> + “No, you ask,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, go on; what you 'fraid of?” urged Marcus. Trina shook her head + energetically, shutting her lips together. + </p> + <p> + “Well, listen here,” answered Marcus, nudging her; then raising his voice, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “How do, Maria?” Maria nodded to him over her shoulder as she bent over + the lounge. + </p> + <p> + “Workun hard nowadays, Maria?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Didunt always have to work for your living, though, did you, when you ate + offa gold dishes?” Maria didn't answer, except by putting her chin in the + air and shutting her eyes, as though to say she knew a long story about + that if she had a mind to talk. All Marcus's efforts to draw her out on + the subject were unavailing. She only responded by movements of her head. + </p> + <p> + “Can't always start her going,” Marcus told his cousin. + </p> + <p> + “What does she do, though, when you ask her about her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure,” said Marcus, who had forgotten. “Say, Maria, what's your + name?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” asked Maria, straightening up, her hands on he hips. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us your name,” repeated Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “Name is Maria—Miranda—Macapa.” Then, after a pause, she + added, as though she had but that moment thought of it, “Had a flying + squirrel an' let him go.” + </p> + <p> + Invariably Maria Macapa made this answer. It was not always she would talk + about the famous service of gold plate, but a question as to her name + never failed to elicit the same strange answer, delivered in a rapid + undertone: “Name is Maria—Miranda—Macapa.” Then, as if struck + with an after thought, “Had a flying squirrel an' let him go.” + </p> + <p> + Why Maria should associate the release of the mythical squirrel with her + name could not be said. About Maria the flat knew absolutely nothing + further than that she was Spanish-American. Miss Baker was the oldest + lodger in the flat, and Maria was a fixture there as maid of all work when + she had come. There was a legend to the effect that Maria's people had + been at one time immensely wealthy in Central America. + </p> + <p> + Maria turned again to her work. Trina and Marcus watched her curiously. + There was a silence. The corundum burr in McTeague's engine hummed in a + prolonged monotone. The canary bird chittered occasionally. The room was + warm, and the breathing of the five people in the narrow space made the + air close and thick. At long intervals an acrid odor of ink floated up + from the branch post-office immediately below. + </p> + <p> + Maria Macapa finished her work and started to leave. As she passed near + Marcus and his cousin she stopped, and drew a bunch of blue tickets + furtively from her pocket. “Buy a ticket in the lottery?” she inquired, + looking at the girl. “Just a dollar.” + </p> + <p> + “Go along with you, Maria,” said Marcus, who had but thirty cents in his + pocket. “Go along; it's against the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Buy a ticket,” urged Maria, thrusting the bundle toward Trina. “Try your + luck. The butcher on the next block won twenty dollars the last drawing.” + </p> + <p> + Very uneasy, Trina bought a ticket for the sake of being rid of her. Maria + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't she a queer bird?” muttered Marcus. He was much embarrassed and + disturbed because he had not bought the ticket for Trina. + </p> + <p> + But there was a sudden movement. McTeague had just finished with Miss + Baker. + </p> + <p> + “You should notice,” the dressmaker said to the dentist, in a low voice, + “he always leaves the door a little ajar in the afternoon.” When she had + gone out, Marcus Schouler brought Trina forward. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac, this is my cousin, Trina Sieppe.” The two shook hands dumbly, + McTeague slowly nodding his huge head with its great shock of yellow hair. + Trina was very small and prettily made. Her face was round and rather + pale; her eyes long and narrow and blue, like the half-open eyes of a + little baby; her lips and the lobes of her tiny ears were pale, a little + suggestive of anaemia; while across the bridge of her nose ran an adorable + little line of freckles. But it was to her hair that one's attention was + most attracted. Heaps and heaps of blue-black coils and braids, a royal + crown of swarthy bands, a veritable sable tiara, heavy, abundant, odorous. + All the vitality that should have given color to her face seemed to have + been absorbed by this marvellous hair. It was the coiffure of a queen that + shadowed the pale temples of this little bourgeoise. So heavy was it that + it tipped her head backward, and the position thrust her chin out a + little. It was a charming poise, innocent, confiding, almost infantile. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed all in black, very modest and plain. The effect of her + pale face in all this contrasting black was almost monastic. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Marcus suddenly, “I got to go. Must get back to work. + Don't hurt her too much, Mac. S'long, Trina.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague and Trina were left alone. He was embarrassed, troubled. These + young girls disturbed and perplexed him. He did not like them, obstinately + cherishing that intuitive suspicion of all things feminine—the + perverse dislike of an overgrown boy. On the other hand, she was perfectly + at her ease; doubtless the woman in her was not yet awakened; she was yet, + as one might say, without sex. She was almost like a boy, frank, candid, + unreserved. + </p> + <p> + She took her place in the operating chair and told him what was the + matter, looking squarely into his face. She had fallen out of a swing the + afternoon of the preceding day; one of her teeth had been knocked loose + and the other altogether broken out. + </p> + <p> + McTeague listened to her with apparent stolidity, nodding his head from + time to time as she spoke. The keenness of his dislike of her as a woman + began to be blunted. He thought she was rather pretty, that he even liked + her because she was so small, so prettily made, so good natured and + straightforward. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a look at your teeth,” he said, picking up his mirror. “You + better take your hat off.” She leaned back in her chair and opened her + mouth, showing the rows of little round teeth, as white and even as the + kernels on an ear of green corn, except where an ugly gap came at the + side. + </p> + <p> + McTeague put the mirror into her mouth, touching one and another of her + teeth with the handle of an excavator. By and by he straightened up, + wiping the moisture from the mirror on his coat-sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Doctor,” said the girl, anxiously, “it's a dreadful disfigurement, + isn't it?” adding, “What can you do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” answered McTeague, slowly, looking vaguely about on the floor of + the room, “the roots of the broken tooth are still in the gum; they'll + have to come out, and I guess I'll have to pull that other bicuspid. Let + me look again. Yes,” he went on in a moment, peering into her mouth with + the mirror, “I guess that'll have to come out, too.” The tooth was loose, + discolored, and evidently dead. “It's a curious case,” McTeague went on. + “I don't know as I ever had a tooth like that before. It's what's called + necrosis. It don't often happen. It'll have to come out sure.” + </p> + <p> + Then a discussion was opened on the subject, Trina sitting up in the + chair, holding her hat in her lap; McTeague leaning against the window + frame his hands in his pockets, his eyes wandering about on the floor. + Trina did not want the other tooth removed; one hole like that was bad + enough; but two—ah, no, it was not to be thought of. + </p> + <p> + But McTeague reasoned with her, tried in vain to make her understand that + there was no vascular connection between the root and the gum. Trina was + blindly persistent, with the persistency of a girl who has made up her + mind. + </p> + <p> + McTeague began to like her better and better, and after a while commenced + himself to feel that it would be a pity to disfigure such a pretty mouth. + He became interested; perhaps he could do something, something in the way + of a crown or bridge. “Let's look at that again,” he said, picking up his + mirror. He began to study the situation very carefully, really desiring to + remedy the blemish. + </p> + <p> + It was the first bicuspid that was missing, and though part of the root of + the second (the loose one) would remain after its extraction, he was sure + it would not be strong enough to sustain a crown. All at once he grew + obstinate, resolving, with all the strength of a crude and primitive man, + to conquer the difficulty in spite of everything. He turned over in his + mind the technicalities of the case. No, evidently the root was not strong + enough to sustain a crown; besides that, it was placed a little + irregularly in the arch. But, fortunately, there were cavities in the two + teeth on either side of the gap—one in the first molar and one in + the palatine surface of the cuspid; might he not drill a socket in the + remaining root and sockets in the molar and cuspid, and, partly by + bridging, partly by crowning, fill in the gap? He made up his mind to do + it. + </p> + <p> + Why he should pledge himself to this hazardous case McTeague was puzzled + to know. With most of his clients he would have contented himself with the + extraction of the loose tooth and the roots of the broken one. Why should + he risk his reputation in this case? He could not say why. + </p> + <p> + It was the most difficult operation he had ever performed. He bungled it + considerably, but in the end he succeeded passably well. He extracted the + loose tooth with his bayonet forceps and prepared the roots of the broken + one as if for filling, fitting into them a flattened piece of platinum + wire to serve as a dowel. But this was only the beginning; altogether it + was a fortnight's work. Trina came nearly every other day, and passed two, + and even three, hours in the chair. + </p> + <p> + By degrees McTeague's first awkwardness and suspicion vanished entirely. + The two became good friends. McTeague even arrived at that point where he + could work and talk to her at the same time—a thing that had never + before been possible for him. + </p> + <p> + Never until then had McTeague become so well acquainted with a girl of + Trina's age. The younger women of Polk Street—the shop girls, the + young women of the soda fountains, the waitresses in the cheap restaurants—preferred + another dentist, a young fellow just graduated from the college, a poser, + a rider of bicycles, a man about town, who wore astonishing waistcoats and + bet money on greyhound coursing. Trina was McTeague's first experience. + With her the feminine element suddenly entered his little world. It was + not only her that he saw and felt, it was the woman, the whole sex, an + entire new humanity, strange and alluring, that he seemed to have + discovered. How had he ignored it so long? It was dazzling, delicious, + charming beyond all words. His narrow point of view was at once enlarged + and confused, and all at once he saw that there was something else in life + besides concertinas and steam beer. Everything had to be made over again. + His whole rude idea of life had to be changed. The male virile desire in + him tardily awakened, aroused itself, strong and brutal. It was + resistless, untrained, a thing not to be held in leash an instant. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, by gradual, almost imperceptible degrees, the thought of + Trina Sieppe occupied his mind from day to day, from hour to hour. He + found himself thinking of her constantly; at every instant he saw her + round, pale face; her narrow, milk-blue eyes; her little out-thrust chin; + her heavy, huge tiara of black hair. At night he lay awake for hours under + the thick blankets of the bed-lounge, staring upward into the darkness, + tormented with the idea of her, exasperated at the delicate, subtle mesh + in which he found himself entangled. During the forenoons, while he went + about his work, he thought of her. As he made his plaster-of-paris moulds + at the washstand in the corner behind the screen he turned over in his + mind all that had happened, all that had been said at the previous + sitting. Her little tooth that he had extracted he kept wrapped in a bit + of newspaper in his vest pocket. Often he took it out and held it in the + palm of his immense, horny hand, seized with some strange elephantine + sentiment, wagging his head at it, heaving tremendous sighs. What a folly! + </p> + <p> + At two o'clock on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays Trina arrived and + took her place in the operating chair. While at his work McTeague was + every minute obliged to bend closely over her; his hands touched her face, + her cheeks, her adorable little chin; her lips pressed against his + fingers. She breathed warmly on his forehead and on his eyelids, while the + odor of her hair, a charming feminine perfume, sweet, heavy, enervating, + came to his nostrils, so penetrating, so delicious, that his flesh pricked + and tingled with it; a veritable sensation of faintness passed over this + huge, callous fellow, with his enormous bones and corded muscles. He drew + a short breath through his nose; his jaws suddenly gripped together + vise-like. + </p> + <p> + But this was only at times—a strange, vexing spasm, that subsided + almost immediately. For the most part, McTeague enjoyed the pleasure of + these sittings with Trina with a certain strong calmness, blindly happy + that she was there. This poor crude dentist of Polk Street, stupid, + ignorant, vulgar, with his sham education and plebeian tastes, whose only + relaxations were to eat, to drink steam beer, and to play upon his + concertina, was living through his first romance, his first idyl. It was + delightful. The long hours he passed alone with Trina in the “Dental + Parlors,” silent, only for the scraping of the instruments and the pouring + of bud-burrs in the engine, in the foul atmosphere, overheated by the + little stove and heavy with the smell of ether, creosote, and stale + bedding, had all the charm of secret appointments and stolen meetings + under the moon. + </p> + <p> + By degrees the operation progressed. One day, just after McTeague had put + in the temporary gutta-percha fillings and nothing more could be done at + that sitting, Trina asked him to examine the rest of her teeth. They were + perfect, with one exception—a spot of white caries on the lateral + surface of an incisor. McTeague filled it with gold, enlarging the cavity + with hard-bits and hoe-excavators, and burring in afterward with half-cone + burrs. The cavity was deep, and Trina began to wince and moan. To hurt + Trina was a positive anguish for McTeague, yet an anguish which he was + obliged to endure at every hour of the sitting. It was harrowing—he + sweated under it—to be forced to torture her, of all women in the + world; could anything be worse than that? + </p> + <p> + “Hurt?” he inquired, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + She answered by frowning, with a sharp intake of breath, putting her + fingers over her closed lips and nodding her head. McTeague sprayed the + tooth with glycerite of tannin, but without effect. Rather than hurt her + he found himself forced to the use of anaesthesia, which he hated. He had + a notion that the nitrous oxide gas was dangerous, so on this occasion, as + on all others, used ether. + </p> + <p> + He put the sponge a half dozen times to Trina's face, more nervous than he + had ever been before, watching the symptoms closely. Her breathing became + short and irregular; there was a slight twitching of the muscles. When her + thumbs turned inward toward the palms, he took the sponge away. She passed + off very quickly, and, with a long sigh, sank back into the chair. + </p> + <p> + McTeague straightened up, putting the sponge upon the rack behind him, his + eyes fixed upon Trina's face. For some time he stood watching her as she + lay there, unconscious and helpless, and very pretty. He was alone with + her, and she was absolutely without defense. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the animal in the man stirred and woke; the evil instincts that + in him were so close to the surface leaped to life, shouting and + clamoring. + </p> + <p> + It was a crisis—a crisis that had arisen all in an instant; a crisis + for which he was totally unprepared. Blindly, and without knowing why, + McTeague fought against it, moved by an unreasoned instinct of resistance. + Within him, a certain second self, another better McTeague rose with the + brute; both were strong, with the huge crude strength of the man himself. + The two were at grapples. There in that cheap and shabby “Dental Parlor” a + dreaded struggle began. It was the old battle, old as the world, wide as + the world—the sudden panther leap of the animal, lips drawn, fangs + aflash, hideous, monstrous, not to be resisted, and the simultaneous + arousing of the other man, the better self that cries, “Down, down,” + without knowing why; that grips the monster; that fights to strangle it, + to thrust it down and back. + </p> + <p> + Dizzied and bewildered with the shock, the like of which he had never + known before, McTeague turned from Trina, gazing bewilderedly about the + room. The struggle was bitter; his teeth ground themselves together with a + little rasping sound; the blood sang in his ears; his face flushed + scarlet; his hands twisted themselves together like the knotting of + cables. The fury in him was as the fury of a young bull in the heat of + high summer. But for all that he shook his huge head from time to time, + muttering: + </p> + <p> + “No, by God! No, by God!” + </p> + <p> + Dimly he seemed to realize that should he yield now he would never be able + to care for Trina again. She would never be the same to him, never so + radiant, so sweet, so adorable; her charm for him would vanish in an + instant. Across her forehead, her little pale forehead, under the shadow + of her royal hair, he would surely see the smudge of a foul ordure, the + footprint of the monster. It would be a sacrilege, an abomination. He + recoiled from it, banding all his strength to the issue. + </p> + <p> + “No, by God! No, by God!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to his work, as if seeking a refuge in it. But as he drew near + to her again, the charm of her innocence and helplessness came over him + afresh. It was a final protest against his resolution. Suddenly he leaned + over and kissed her, grossly, full on the mouth. The thing was done before + he knew it. Terrified at his weakness at the very moment he believed + himself strong, he threw himself once more into his work with desperate + energy. By the time he was fastening the sheet of rubber upon the tooth, + he had himself once more in hand. He was disturbed, still trembling, still + vibrating with the throes of the crisis, but he was the master; the animal + was downed, was cowed for this time, at least. + </p> + <p> + But for all that, the brute was there. Long dormant, it was now at last + alive, awake. From now on he would feel its presence continually; would + feel it tugging at its chain, watching its opportunity. Ah, the pity of + it! Why could he not always love her purely, cleanly? What was this + perverse, vicious thing that lived within him, knitted to his flesh? + </p> + <p> + Below the fine fabric of all that was good in him ran the foul stream of + hereditary evil, like a sewer. The vices and sins of his father and of his + father's father, to the third and fourth and five hundredth generation, + tainted him. The evil of an entire race flowed in his veins. Why should it + be? He did not desire it. Was he to blame? + </p> + <p> + But McTeague could not understand this thing. It had faced him, as sooner + or later it faces every child of man; but its significance was not for + him. To reason with it was beyond him. He could only oppose to it an + instinctive stubborn resistance, blind, inert. + </p> + <p> + McTeague went on with his work. As he was rapping in the little blocks and + cylinders with the mallet, Trina slowly came back to herself with a long + sigh. She still felt a little confused, and lay quiet in the chair. There + was a long silence, broken only by the uneven tapping of the hardwood + mallet. By and by she said, “I never felt a thing,” and then she smiled at + him very prettily beneath the rubber dam. McTeague turned to her suddenly, + his mallet in one hand, his pliers holding a pellet of sponge-gold in the + other. All at once he said, with the unreasoned simplicity and directness + of a child: “Listen here, Miss Trina, I like you better than any one else; + what's the matter with us getting married?” + </p> + <p> + Trina sat up in the chair quickly, and then drew back from him, frightened + and bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Will you? Will you?” said McTeague. “Say, Miss Trina, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What do you mean?” she cried, confusedly, her words muffled + beneath the rubber. + </p> + <p> + “Will you?” repeated McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she exclaimed, refusing without knowing why, suddenly seized + with a fear of him, the intuitive feminine fear of the male. McTeague + could only repeat the same thing over and over again. Trina, more and more + frightened at his huge hands—the hands of the old-time car-boy—his + immense square-cut head and his enormous brute strength, cried out: “No, + no,” behind the rubber dam, shaking her head violently, holding out her + hands, and shrinking down before him in the operating chair. McTeague came + nearer to her, repeating the same question. “No, no,” she cried, + terrified. Then, as she exclaimed, “Oh, I am sick,” was suddenly taken + with a fit of vomiting. It was the not unusual after effect of the ether, + aided now by her excitement and nervousness. McTeague was checked. He + poured some bromide of potassium into a graduated glass and held it to her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Here, swallow this,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3 + </h2> + <p> + Once every two months Maria Macapa set the entire flat in commotion. She + roamed the building from garret to cellar, searching each corner, + ferreting through every old box and trunk and barrel, groping about on the + top shelves of closets, peering into rag-bags, exasperating the lodgers + with her persistence and importunity. She was collecting junks, bits of + iron, stone jugs, glass bottles, old sacks, and cast-off garments. It was + one of her perquisites. She sold the junk to Zerkow, the + rags-bottles-sacks man, who lived in a filthy den in the alley just back + of the flat, and who sometimes paid her as much as three cents a pound. + The stone jugs, however, were worth a nickel. The money that Zerkow paid + her, Maria spent on shirt waists and dotted blue neckties, trying to dress + like the girls who tended the soda-water fountain in the candy store on + the corner. She was sick with envy of these young women. They were in the + world, they were elegant, they were debonair, they had their “young men.” + </p> + <p> + On this occasion she presented herself at the door of Old Grannis's room + late in the afternoon. His door stood a little open. That of Miss Baker + was ajar a few inches. The two old people were “keeping company” after + their fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Got any junk, Mister Grannis?” inquired Maria, standing in the door, a + very dirty, half-filled pillowcase over one arm. + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing—nothing that I can think of, Maria,” replied Old + Grannis, terribly vexed at the interruption, yet not wishing to be unkind. + “Nothing I think of. Yet, however—perhaps—if you wish to + look.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the middle of the room before a small pine table. His little + binding apparatus was before him. In his fingers was a huge upholsterer's + needle threaded with twine, a brad-awl lay at his elbow, on the floor + beside him was a great pile of pamphlets, the pages uncut. Old Grannis + bought the “Nation” and the “Breeder and Sportsman.” In the latter he + occasionally found articles on dogs which interested him. The former he + seldom read. He could not afford to subscribe regularly to either of the + publications, but purchased their back numbers by the score, almost solely + for the pleasure he took in binding them. + </p> + <p> + “What you alus sewing up them books for, Mister Grannis?” asked Maria, as + she began rummaging about in Old Grannis's closet shelves. “There's just + hundreds of 'em in here on yer shelves; they ain't no good to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” answered Old Grannis, timidly, rubbing his chin, “I—I'm + sure I can't quite say; a little habit, you know; a diversion, a—a—it + occupies one, you know. I don't smoke; it takes the place of a pipe, + perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's this old yellow pitcher,” said Maria, coming out of the closet + with it in her hand. “The handle's cracked; you don't want it; better give + me it.” + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis did want the pitcher; true, he never used it now, but he had + kept it a long time, and somehow he held to it as old people hold to + trivial, worthless things that they have had for many years. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that pitcher—well, Maria, I—I don't know. I'm afraid—you + see, that pitcher——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, go 'long,” interrupted Maria Macapa, “what's the good of it?” + </p> + <p> + “If you insist, Maria, but I would much rather—” he rubbed his chin, + perplexed and annoyed, hating to refuse, and wishing that Maria were gone. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the good of it?” persisted Maria. He could give no sufficient + answer. “That's all right,” she asserted, carrying the pitcher out. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—Maria—I say, you—you might leave the door—ah, + don't quite shut it—it's a bit close in here at times.” Maria + grinned, and swung the door wide. Old Grannis was horribly embarrassed; + positively, Maria was becoming unbearable. + </p> + <p> + “Got any junk?” cried Maria at Miss Baker's door. The little old lady was + sitting close to the wall in her rocking-chair; her hands resting idly in + her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Maria,” she said plaintively, “you are always after junk; you know I + never have anything laying 'round like that.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. The retired dressmaker's tiny room was a marvel of neatness, + from the little red table, with its three Gorham spoons laid in exact + parallels, to the decorous geraniums and mignonettes growing in the starch + box at the window, underneath the fish globe with its one venerable gold + fish. That day Miss Baker had been doing a bit of washing; two pocket + handkerchiefs, still moist, adhered to the window panes, drying in the + sun. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess you got something you don't want,” Maria went on, peering + into the corners of the room. “Look-a-here what Mister Grannis gi' me,” + and she held out the yellow pitcher. Instantly Miss Baker was in a quiver + of confusion. Every word spoken aloud could be perfectly heard in the next + room. What a stupid drab was this Maria! Could anything be more trying + than this position? + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that right, Mister Grannis?” called Maria; “didn't you gi' me this + pitcher?” Old Grannis affected not to hear; perspiration stood on his + forehead; his timidity overcame him as if he were a ten-year-old + schoolboy. He half rose from his chair, his fingers dancing nervously upon + his chin. + </p> + <p> + Maria opened Miss Baker's closet unconcernedly. “What's the matter with + these old shoes?” she exclaimed, turning about with a pair of half-worn + silk gaiters in her hand. They were by no means old enough to throw away, + but Miss Baker was almost beside herself. There was no telling what might + happen next. Her only thought was to be rid of Maria. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, anything. You can have them; but go, go. There's nothing else, + not a thing.” + </p> + <p> + Maria went out into the hall, leaving Miss Baker's door wide open, as if + maliciously. She had left the dirty pillow-case on the floor in the hall, + and she stood outside, between the two open doors, stowing away the old + pitcher and the half-worn silk shoes. She made remarks at the top of her + voice, calling now to Miss Baker, now to Old Grannis. In a way she brought + the two old people face to face. Each time they were forced to answer her + questions it was as if they were talking directly to each other. + </p> + <p> + “These here are first-rate shoes, Miss Baker. Look here, Mister Grannis, + get on to the shoes Miss Baker gi' me. You ain't got a pair you don't + want, have you? You two people have less junk than any one else in the + flat. How do you manage, Mister Grannis? You old bachelors are just like + old maids, just as neat as pins. You two are just alike—you and + Mister Grannis—ain't you, Miss Baker?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have been more horribly constrained, more awkward. The two + old people suffered veritable torture. When Maria had gone, each heaved a + sigh of unspeakable relief. Softly they pushed to their doors, leaving + open a space of half a dozen inches. Old Grannis went back to his binding. + Miss Baker brewed a cup of tea to quiet her nerves. Each tried to regain + their composure, but in vain. Old Grannis's fingers trembled so that he + pricked them with his needle. Miss Baker dropped her spoon twice. Their + nervousness would not wear off. They were perturbed, upset. In a word, the + afternoon was spoiled. + </p> + <p> + Maria went on about the flat from room to room. She had already paid + Marcus Schouler a visit early that morning before he had gone out. Marcus + had sworn at her, excitedly vociferating; “No, by damn! No, he hadn't a + thing for her; he hadn't, for a fact. It was a positive persecution. Every + day his privacy was invaded. He would complain to the landlady, he would. + He'd move out of the place.” In the end he had given Maria seven empty + whiskey flasks, an iron grate, and ten cents—the latter because he + said she wore her hair like a girl he used to know. + </p> + <p> + After coming from Miss Baker's room Maria knocked at McTeague's door. The + dentist was lying on the bed-lounge in his stocking feet, doing nothing + apparently, gazing up at the ceiling, lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + Since he had spoken to Trina Sieppe, asking her so abruptly to marry him, + McTeague had passed a week of torment. For him there was no going back. It + was Trina now, and none other. It was all one with him that his best + friend, Marcus, might be in love with the same girl. He must have Trina in + spite of everything; he would have her even in spite of herself. He did + not stop to reflect about the matter; he followed his desire blindly, + recklessly, furious and raging at every obstacle. And she had cried “No, + no!” back at him; he could not forget that. She, so small and pale and + delicate, had held him at bay, who was so huge, so immensely strong. + </p> + <p> + Besides that, all the charm of their intimacy was gone. After that unhappy + sitting, Trina was no longer frank and straight-forward. Now she was + circumspect, reserved, distant. He could no longer open his mouth; words + failed him. At one sitting in particular they had said but good-day and + good-by to each other. He felt that he was clumsy and ungainly. He told + himself that she despised him. + </p> + <p> + But the memory of her was with him constantly. Night after night he lay + broad awake thinking of Trina, wondering about her, racked with the + infinite desire of her. His head burnt and throbbed. The palms of his + hands were dry. He dozed and woke, and walked aimlessly about the dark + room, bruising himself against the three chairs drawn up “at attention” + under the steel engraving, and stumbling over the stone pug dog that sat + in front of the little stove. + </p> + <p> + Besides this, the jealousy of Marcus Schouler harassed him. Maria Macapa, + coming into his “Parlor” to ask for junk, found him flung at length upon + the bed-lounge, gnawing at his fingers in an excess of silent fury. At + lunch that day Marcus had told him of an excursion that was planned for + the next Sunday afternoon. Mr. Sieppe, Trina's father, belonged to a rifle + club that was to hold a meet at Schuetzen Park across the bay. All the + Sieppes were going; there was to be a basket picnic. Marcus, as usual, was + invited to be one of the party. McTeague was in agony. It was his first + experience, and he suffered all the worse for it because he was totally + unprepared. What miserable complication was this in which he found himself + involved? It seemed so simple to him since he loved Trina to take her + straight to himself, stopping at nothing, asking no questions, to have + her, and by main strength to carry her far away somewhere, he did not know + exactly where, to some vague country, some undiscovered place where every + day was Sunday. + </p> + <p> + “Got any junk?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What? What is it?” exclaimed McTeague, suddenly rousing up from the + lounge. Often Maria did very well in the “Dental Parlors.” McTeague was + continually breaking things which he was too stupid to have mended; for + him anything that was broken was lost. Now it was a cuspidor, now a + fire-shovel for the little stove, now a China shaving mug. + </p> + <p> + “Got any junk?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I don't remember,” muttered McTeague. Maria roamed + about the room, McTeague following her in his huge stockinged feet. All at + once she pounced upon a sheaf of old hand instruments in a coverless + cigar-box, pluggers, hard bits, and excavators. Maria had long coveted + such a find in McTeague's “Parlor,” knowing it should be somewhere about. + The instruments were of the finest tempered steel and really valuable. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Doctor, I can have these, can't I?” exclaimed Maria. “You got no + more use for them.” McTeague was not at all sure of this. There were many + in the sheaf that might be repaired, reshaped. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said, wagging his head. But Maria Macapa, knowing with whom + she had to deal, at once let loose a torrent of words. She made the + dentist believe that he had no right to withhold them, that he had + promised to save them for her. She affected a great indignation, pursing + her lips and putting her chin in the air as though wounded in some finer + sense, changing so rapidly from one mood to another, filling the room with + such shrill clamor, that McTeague was dazed and benumbed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all right, all right,” he said, trying to make himself heard. “It + WOULD be mean. I don't want 'em.” As he turned from her to pick up the + box, Maria took advantage of the moment to steal three “mats” of + sponge-gold out of the glass saucer. Often she stole McTeague's gold, + almost under his very eyes; indeed, it was so easy to do so that there was + but little pleasure in the theft. Then Maria took herself off. McTeague + returned to the sofa and flung himself upon it face downward. + </p> + <p> + A little before supper time Maria completed her search. The flat was + cleaned of its junk from top to bottom. The dirty pillow-case was full to + bursting. She took advantage of the supper hour to carry her bundle around + the corner and up into the alley where Zerkow lived. + </p> + <p> + When Maria entered his shop, Zerkow had just come in from his daily + rounds. His decrepit wagon stood in front of his door like a stranded + wreck; the miserable horse, with its lamentable swollen joints, fed + greedily upon an armful of spoiled hay in a shed at the back. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the junk shop was dark and damp, and foul with all manner + of choking odors. On the walls, on the floor, and hanging from the rafters + was a world of debris, dust-blackened, rust-corroded. Everything was + there, every trade was represented, every class of society; things of iron + and cloth and wood; all the detritus that a great city sloughs off in its + daily life. Zerkow's junk shop was the last abiding-place, the almshouse, + of such articles as had outlived their usefulness. + </p> + <p> + Maria found Zerkow himself in the back room, cooking some sort of a meal + over an alcohol stove. Zerkow was a Polish Jew—curiously enough his + hair was fiery red. He was a dry, shrivelled old man of sixty odd. He had + the thin, eager, cat-like lips of the covetous; eyes that had grown keen + as those of a lynx from long searching amidst muck and debris; and + claw-like, prehensile fingers—the fingers of a man who accumulates, + but never disburses. It was impossible to look at Zerkow and not know + instantly that greed—inordinate, insatiable greed—was the + dominant passion of the man. He was the Man with the Rake, groping hourly + in the muck-heap of the city for gold, for gold, for gold. It was his + dream, his passion; at every instant he seemed to feel the generous solid + weight of the crude fat metal in his palms. The glint of it was constantly + in his eyes; the jangle of it sang forever in his ears as the jangling of + cymbals. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it? Who is it?” exclaimed Zerkow, as he heard Maria's footsteps in + the outer room. His voice was faint, husky, reduced almost to a whisper by + his prolonged habit of street crying. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you again, is it?” he added, peering through the gloom of the + shop. “Let's see; you've been here before, ain't you? You're the Mexican + woman from Polk Street. Macapa's your name, hey?” + </p> + <p> + Maria nodded. “Had a flying squirrel an' let him go,” she muttered, + absently. Zerkow was puzzled; he looked at her sharply for a moment, then + dismissed the matter with a movement of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what you got for me?” he said. He left his supper to grow cold, + absorbed at once in the affair. + </p> + <p> + Then a long wrangle began. Every bit of junk in Maria's pillow-case was + discussed and weighed and disputed. They clamored into each other's faces + over Old Grannis's cracked pitcher, over Miss Baker's silk gaiters, over + Marcus Schouler's whiskey flasks, reaching the climax of disagreement when + it came to McTeague's instruments. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no, no!” shouted Maria. “Fifteen cents for the lot! I might as well + make you a Christmas present! Besides, I got some gold fillings off him; + look at um.” + </p> + <p> + Zerkow drew a quick breath as the three pellets suddenly flashed in + Maria's palm. There it was, the virgin metal, the pure, unalloyed ore, his + dream, his consuming desire. His fingers twitched and hooked themselves + into his palms, his thin lips drew tight across his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you got some gold,” he muttered, reaching for it. + </p> + <p> + Maria shut her fist over the pellets. “The gold goes with the others,” she + declared. “You'll gi' me a fair price for the lot, or I'll take um back.” + </p> + <p> + In the end a bargain was struck that satisfied Maria. Zerkow was not one + who would let gold go out of his house. He counted out to her the price of + all her junk, grudging each piece of money as if it had been the blood of + his veins. The affair was concluded. + </p> + <p> + But Zerkow still had something to say. As Maria folded up the pillow-case + and rose to go, the old Jew said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, see here a minute, we'll—you'll have a drink before you go, + won't you? Just to show that it's all right between us.” Maria sat down + again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess I'll have a drink,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Zerkow took down a whiskey bottle and a red glass tumbler with a broken + base from a cupboard on the wall. The two drank together, Zerkow from the + bottle, Maria from the broken tumbler. They wiped their lips slowly, + drawing breath again. There was a moment's silence. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” said Zerkow at last, “how about those gold dishes you told me about + the last time you were here?” + </p> + <p> + “What gold dishes?” inquired Maria, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you know,” returned the other. “The plate your father owned in + Central America a long time ago. Don't you know, it rang like so many + bells? Red gold, you know, like oranges?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Maria, putting her chin in the air as if she knew a long story + about that if she had a mind to tell it. “Ah, yes, that gold service.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us about it again,” said Zerkow, his bloodless lower lip moving + against the upper, his claw-like fingers feeling about his mouth and chin. + “Tell us about it; go on.” + </p> + <p> + He was breathing short, his limbs trembled a little. It was as if some + hungry beast of prey had scented a quarry. Maria still refused, putting up + her head, insisting that she had to be going. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have it,” insisted the Jew. “Take another drink.” Maria took + another swallow of the whiskey. “Now, go on,” repeated Zerkow; “let's have + the story.” Maria squared her elbows on the deal table, looking straight + in front of her with eyes that saw nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was this way,” she began. “It was when I was little. My folks + must have been rich, oh, rich into the millions—coffee, I guess—and + there was a large house, but I can only remember the plate. Oh, that + service of plate! It was wonderful. There were more than a hundred pieces, + and every one of them gold. You should have seen the sight when the + leather trunk was opened. It fair dazzled your eyes. It was a yellow blaze + like a fire, like a sunset; such a glory, all piled up together, one piece + over the other. Why, if the room was dark you'd think you could see just + the same with all that glitter there. There wa'n't a piece that was so + much as scratched; every one was like a mirror, smooth and bright, just + like a little pool when the sun shines into it. There was dinner dishes + and soup tureens and pitchers; and great, big platters as long as that and + wide too; and cream-jugs and bowls with carved handles, all vines and + things; and drinking mugs, every one a different shape; and dishes for + gravy and sauces; and then a great, big punch-bowl with a ladle, and the + bowl was all carved out with figures and bunches of grapes. Why, just only + that punch-bowl was worth a fortune, I guess. When all that plate was set + out on a table, it was a sight for a king to look at. Such a service as + that was! Each piece was heavy, oh, so heavy! and thick, you know; thick, + fat gold, nothing but gold—red, shining, pure gold, orange red—and + when you struck it with your knuckle, ah, you should have heard! No church + bell ever rang sweeter or clearer. It was soft gold, too; you could bite + into it, and leave the dent of your teeth. Oh, that gold plate! I can see + it just as plain—solid, solid, heavy, rich, pure gold; nothing but + gold, gold, heaps and heaps of it. What a service that was!” + </p> + <p> + Maria paused, shaking her head, thinking over the vanished splendor. + Illiterate enough, unimaginative enough on all other subjects, her + distorted wits called up this picture with marvellous distinctness. It was + plain she saw the plate clearly. Her description was accurate, was almost + eloquent. + </p> + <p> + Did that wonderful service of gold plate ever exist outside of her + diseased imagination? Was Maria actually remembering some reality of a + childhood of barbaric luxury? Were her parents at one time possessed of an + incalculable fortune derived from some Central American coffee plantation, + a fortune long since confiscated by armies of insurrectionists, or + squandered in the support of revolutionary governments? + </p> + <p> + It was not impossible. Of Maria Macapa's past prior to the time of her + appearance at the “flat” absolutely nothing could be learned. She suddenly + appeared from the unknown, a strange woman of a mixed race, sane on all + subjects but that of the famous service of gold plate; but unusual, + complex, mysterious, even at her best. + </p> + <p> + But what misery Zerkow endured as he listened to her tale! For he chose to + believe it, forced himself to believe it, lashed and harassed by a + pitiless greed that checked at no tale of treasure, however preposterous. + The story ravished him with delight. He was near someone who had possessed + this wealth. He saw someone who had seen this pile of gold. He seemed near + it; it was there, somewhere close by, under his eyes, under his fingers; + it was red, gleaming, ponderous. He gazed about him wildly; nothing, + nothing but the sordid junk shop and the rust-corroded tins. What + exasperation, what positive misery, to be so near to it and yet to know + that it was irrevocably, irretrievably lost! A spasm of anguish passed + through him. He gnawed at his bloodless lips, at the hopelessness of it, + the rage, the fury of it. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on,” he whispered; “let's have it all over again. Polished like + a mirror, hey, and heavy? Yes, I know, I know. A punch-bowl worth a + fortune. Ah! and you saw it, you had it all!” + </p> + <p> + Maria rose to go. Zerkow accompanied her to the door, urging another drink + upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Come again, come again,” he croaked. “Don't wait till you've got junk; + come any time you feel like it, and tell me more about the plate.” + </p> + <p> + He followed her a step down the alley. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you think it was worth?” he inquired, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a million dollars,” answered Maria, vaguely. + </p> + <p> + When Maria had gone, Zerkow returned to the back room of the shop, and + stood in front of the alcohol stove, looking down into his cold dinner, + preoccupied, thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “A million dollars,” he muttered in his rasping, guttural whisper, his + finger-tips wandering over his thin, cat-like lips. “A golden service + worth a million dollars; a punchbowl worth a fortune; red gold plates, + heaps and piles. God!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4 + </h2> + <p> + The days passed. McTeague had finished the operation on Trina's teeth. She + did not come any more to the “Parlors.” Matters had readjusted themselves + a little between the two during the last sittings. Trina yet stood upon + her reserve, and McTeague still felt himself shambling and ungainly in her + presence; but that constraint and embarrassment that had followed upon + McTeague's blundering declaration broke up little by little. In spite of + themselves they were gradually resuming the same relative positions they + had occupied when they had first met. + </p> + <p> + But McTeague suffered miserably for all that. He never would have Trina, + he saw that clearly. She was too good for him; too delicate, too refined, + too prettily made for him, who was so coarse, so enormous, so stupid. She + was for someone else—Marcus, no doubt—or at least for some + finer-grained man. She should have gone to some other dentist; the young + fellow on the corner, for instance, the poser, the rider of bicycles, the + courser of grey-hounds. McTeague began to loathe and to envy this fellow. + He spied upon him going in and out of his office, and noted his + salmon-pink neckties and his astonishing waistcoats. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday, a few days after Trina's last sitting, McTeague met Marcus + Schouler at his table in the car conductors' coffee-joint, next to the + harness shop. + </p> + <p> + “What you got to do this afternoon, Mac?” inquired the other, as they ate + their suet pudding. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing,” replied McTeague, shaking his head. His mouth was full + of pudding. It made him warm to eat, and little beads of perspiration + stood across the bridge of his nose. He looked forward to an afternoon + passed in his operating chair as usual. On leaving his “Parlors” he had + put ten cents into his pitcher and had left it at Frenna's to be filled. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say we take a walk, huh?” said Marcus. “Ah, that's the thing—a + walk, a long walk, by damn! It'll be outa sight. I got to take three or + four of the dogs out for exercise, anyhow. Old Grannis thinks they need + ut. We'll walk out to the Presidio.” + </p> + <p> + Of late it had become the custom of the two friends to take long walks + from time to time. On holidays and on those Sunday afternoons when Marcus + was not absent with the Sieppes they went out together, sometimes to the + park, sometimes to the Presidio, sometimes even across the bay. They took + a great pleasure in each other's company, but silently and with + reservation, having the masculine horror of any demonstration of + friendship. + </p> + <p> + They walked for upwards of five hours that afternoon, out the length of + California Street, and across the Presidio Reservation to the Golden Gate. + Then they turned, and, following the line of the shore, brought up at the + Cliff House. Here they halted for beer, Marcus swearing that his mouth was + as dry as a hay-bin. Before starting on their walk they had gone around to + the little dog hospital, and Marcus had let out four of the convalescents, + crazed with joy at the release. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that dog,” he cried to McTeague, showing him a finely-bred Irish + setter. “That's the dog that belonged to the duck on the avenue, the dog + we called for that day. I've bought 'um. The duck thought he had the + distemper, and just threw 'um away. Nothun wrong with 'um but a little + catarrh. Ain't he a bird? Say, ain't he a bird? Look at his flag; it's + perfect; and see how he carries his tail on a line with his back. See how + stiff and white his whiskers are. Oh, by damn! you can't fool me on a dog. + That dog's a winner.” + </p> + <p> + At the Cliff House the two sat down to their beer in a quiet corner of the + billiard-room. There were but two players. Somewhere in another part of + the building a mammoth music-box was jangling out a quickstep. From + outside came the long, rhythmical rush of the surf and the sonorous + barking of the seals upon the seal rocks. The four dogs curled themselves + down upon the sanded floor. + </p> + <p> + “Here's how,” said Marcus, half emptying his glass. “Ah-h!” he added, with + a long breath, “that's good; it is, for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + For the last hour of their walk Marcus had done nearly all the talking. + McTeague merely answering him by uncertain movements of the head. For that + matter, the dentist had been silent and preoccupied throughout the whole + afternoon. At length Marcus noticed it. As he set down his glass with a + bang he suddenly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you these days, Mac? You got a bean about + somethun, hey? Spit ut out.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied McTeague, looking about on the floor, rolling his eyes; + “nothing, no, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, rats!” returned the other. McTeague kept silence. The two billiard + players departed. The huge music-box struck into a fresh tune. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” exclaimed Marcus, with a short laugh, “guess you're in love.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague gasped, and shuffled his enormous feet under the table. + </p> + <p> + “Well, somethun's bitun you, anyhow,” pursued Marcus. “Maybe I can help + you. We're pals, you know. Better tell me what's up; guess we can + straighten ut out. Ah, go on; spit ut out.” + </p> + <p> + The situation was abominable. McTeague could not rise to it. Marcus was + his best friend, his only friend. They were “pals” and McTeague was very + fond of him. Yet they were both in love, presumably, with the same girl, + and now Marcus would try and force the secret out of him; would rush + blindly at the rock upon which the two must split, stirred by the very + best of motives, wishing only to be of service. Besides this, there was + nobody to whom McTeague would have better preferred to tell his troubles + than to Marcus, and yet about this trouble, the greatest trouble of his + life, he must keep silent; must refrain from speaking of it to Marcus + above everybody. + </p> + <p> + McTeague began dimly to feel that life was too much for him. How had it + all come about? A month ago he was perfectly content; he was calm and + peaceful, taking his little pleasures as he found them. His life had + shaped itself; was, no doubt, to continue always along these same lines. A + woman had entered his small world and instantly there was discord. The + disturbing element had appeared. Wherever the woman had put her foot a + score of distressing complications had sprung up, like the sudden growth + of strange and puzzling flowers. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac, go on; let's have ut straight,” urged Marcus, leaning toward + him. “Has any duck been doing you dirt?” he cried, his face crimson on the + instant. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said McTeague, helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, old man,” persisted Marcus; “let's have ut. What is the row? + I'll do all I can to help you.” + </p> + <p> + It was more than McTeague could bear. The situation had got beyond him. + Stupidly he spoke, his hands deep in his pockets, his head rolled forward. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's Miss Sieppe,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Trina, my cousin? How do you mean?” inquired Marcus sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I don' know,” stammered McTeague, hopelessly confounded. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” cried Marcus, suddenly enlightened, “that you are—that + you, too.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague stirred in his chair, looking at the walls of the room, avoiding + the other's glance. He nodded his head, then suddenly broke out: + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it. It ain't my fault, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Marcus was struck dumb; he dropped back in his chair breathless. Suddenly + McTeague found his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Mark, I can't help it. I don't know how it happened. It came + on so slow that I was, that—that—that it was done before I + knew it, before I could help myself. I know we're pals, us two, and I knew + how—how you and Miss Sieppe were. I know now, I knew then; but that + wouldn't have made any difference. Before I knew it—it—it—there + I was. I can't help it. I wouldn't 'a' had ut happen for anything, if I + could 'a' stopped it, but I don' know, it's something that's just stronger + than you are, that's all. She came there—Miss Sieppe came to the + parlors there three or four times a week, and she was the first girl I had + ever known,—and you don' know! Why, I was so close to her I touched + her face every minute, and her mouth, and smelt her hair and her breath—oh, + you don't know anything about it. I can't give you any idea. I don' know + exactly myself; I only know how I'm fixed. I—I—it's been done; + it's too late, there's no going back. Why, I can't think of anything else + night and day. It's everything. It's—it's—oh, it's everything! + I—I—why, Mark, it's everything—I can't explain.” He made + a helpless movement with both hands. + </p> + <p> + Never had McTeague been so excited; never had he made so long a speech. + His arms moved in fierce, uncertain gestures, his face flushed, his + enormous jaws shut together with a sharp click at every pause. It was like + some colossal brute trapped in a delicate, invisible mesh, raging, + exasperated, powerless to extricate himself. + </p> + <p> + Marcus Schouler said nothing. There was a long silence. Marcus got up and + walked to the window and stood looking out, but seeing nothing. “Well, who + would have thought of this?” he muttered under his breath. Here was a fix. + Marcus cared for Trina. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He + looked forward eagerly to the Sunday afternoon excursions. He liked to be + with Trina. He, too, felt the charm of the little girl—the charm of + the small, pale forehead; the little chin thrust out as if in confidence + and innocence; the heavy, odorous crown of black hair. He liked her + immensely. Some day he would speak; he would ask her to marry him. Marcus + put off this matter of marriage to some future period; it would be some + time—a year, perhaps, or two. The thing did not take definite shape + in his mind. Marcus “kept company” with his cousin Trina, but he knew + plenty of other girls. For the matter of that, he liked all girls pretty + well. Just now the singleness and strength of McTeague's passion startled + him. McTeague would marry Trina that very afternoon if she would have him; + but would he—Marcus? No, he would not; if it came to that, no, he + would not. Yet he knew he liked Trina. He could say—yes, he could + say—he loved her. She was his “girl.” The Sieppes acknowledged him + as Trina's “young man.” Marcus came back to the table and sat down + sideways upon it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are we going to do about it, Mac?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don' know,” answered McTeague, in great distress. “I don' want anything + to—to come between us, Mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, nothun will, you bet!” vociferated the other. “No, sir; you bet + not, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus was thinking hard. He could see very clearly that McTeague loved + Trina more than he did; that in some strange way this huge, brutal fellow + was capable of a greater passion than himself, who was twice as clever. + Suddenly Marcus jumped impetuously to a resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Well, say, Mac,” he cried, striking the table with his fist, “go ahead. I + guess you—you want her pretty bad. I'll pull out; yes, I will. I'll + give her up to you, old man.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of his own magnanimity all at once overcame Marcus. He saw + himself as another man, very noble, self-sacrificing; he stood apart and + watched this second self with boundless admiration and with infinite pity. + He was so good, so magnificent, so heroic, that he almost sobbed. Marcus + made a sweeping gesture of resignation, throwing out both his arms, + crying: + </p> + <p> + “Mac, I'll give her up to you. I won't stand between you.” There were + actually tears in Marcus's eyes as he spoke. There was no doubt he thought + himself sincere. At that moment he almost believed he loved Trina + conscientiously, that he was sacrificing himself for the sake of his + friend. The two stood up and faced each other, gripping hands. It was a + great moment; even McTeague felt the drama of it. What a fine thing was + this friendship between men! the dentist treats his friend for an + ulcerated tooth and refuses payment; the friend reciprocates by giving up + his girl. This was nobility. Their mutual affection and esteem suddenly + increased enormously. It was Damon and Pythias; it was David and Jonathan; + nothing could ever estrange them. Now it was for life or death. + </p> + <p> + “I'm much obliged,” murmured McTeague. He could think of nothing better to + say. “I'm much obliged,” he repeated; “much obliged, Mark.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, that's all right,” returned Marcus Schouler, bravely, + and it occurred to him to add, “You'll be happy together. Tell her for me—tell + her—-tell her——” Marcus could not go on. He wrung the + dentist's hand silently. + </p> + <p> + It had not appeared to either of them that Trina might refuse McTeague. + McTeague's spirits rose at once. In Marcus's withdrawal he fancied he saw + an end to all his difficulties. Everything would come right, after all. + The strained, exalted state of Marcus's nerves ended by putting him into + fine humor as well. His grief suddenly changed to an excess of gaiety. The + afternoon was a success. They slapped each other on the back with great + blows of the open palms, and they drank each other's health in a third + round of beer. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes after his renunciation of Trina Sieppe, Marcus astounded + McTeague with a tremendous feat. + </p> + <p> + “Looka here, Mac. I know somethun you can't do. I'll bet you two bits I'll + stump you.” They each put a quarter on the table. “Now watch me,” cried + Marcus. He caught up a billiard ball from the rack, poised it a moment in + front of his face, then with a sudden, horrifying distension of his jaws + crammed it into his mouth, and shut his lips over it. + </p> + <p> + For an instant McTeague was stupefied, his eyes bulging. Then an enormous + laugh shook him. He roared and shouted, swaying in his chair, slapping his + knee. What a josher was this Marcus! Sure, you never could tell what he + would do next. Marcus slipped the ball out, wiped it on the tablecloth, + and passed it to McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “Now let's see you do it.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague fell suddenly grave. The matter was serious. He parted his thick + mustaches and opened his enormous jaws like an anaconda. The ball + disappeared inside his mouth. Marcus applauded vociferously, shouting, + “Good work!” McTeague reached for the money and put it in his vest pocket, + nodding his head with a knowing air. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly his face grew purple, his jaws moved convulsively, he pawed + at his cheeks with both hands. The billiard ball had slipped into his + mouth easily enough; now, however, he could not get it out again. + </p> + <p> + It was terrible. The dentist rose to his feet, stumbling about among the + dogs, his face working, his eyes starting. Try as he would, he could not + stretch his jaws wide enough to slip the ball out. Marcus lost his wits, + swearing at the top of his voice. McTeague sweated with terror; + inarticulate sounds came from his crammed mouth; he waved his arms wildly; + all the four dogs caught the excitement and began to bark. A waiter rushed + in, the two billiard players returned, a little crowd formed. There was a + veritable scene. + </p> + <p> + All at once the ball slipped out of McTeague's jaws as easily as it had + gone in. What a relief! He dropped into a chair, wiping his forehead, + gasping for breath. + </p> + <p> + On the strength of the occasion Marcus Schouler invited the entire group + to drink with him. + </p> + <p> + By the time the affair was over and the group dispersed it was after five. + Marcus and McTeague decided they would ride home on the cars. But they + soon found this impossible. The dogs would not follow. Only Alexander, + Marcus's new setter, kept his place at the rear of the car. The other + three lost their senses immediately, running wildly about the streets with + their heads in the air, or suddenly starting off at a furious gallop + directly away from the car. Marcus whistled and shouted and lathered with + rage in vain. The two friends were obliged to walk. When they finally + reached Polk Street, Marcus shut up the three dogs in the hospital. + Alexander he brought back to the flat with him. + </p> + <p> + There was a minute back yard in the rear, where Marcus had made a kennel + for Alexander out of an old water barrel. Before he thought of his own + supper Marcus put Alexander to bed and fed him a couple of dog biscuits. + McTeague had followed him to the yard to keep him company. Alexander + settled to his supper at once, chewing vigorously at the biscuit, his head + on one side. + </p> + <p> + “What you going to do about this—about that—about—about + my cousin now, Mac?” inquired Marcus. + </p> + <p> + McTeague shook his head helplessly. It was dark by now and cold. The + little back yard was grimy and full of odors. McTeague was tired with + their long walk. All his uneasiness about his affair with Trina had + returned. No, surely she was not for him. Marcus or some other man would + win her in the end. What could she ever see to desire in him—in him, + a clumsy giant, with hands like wooden mallets? She had told him once that + she would not marry him. Was that not final? + </p> + <p> + “I don' know what to do, Mark,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must make up to her now,” answered Marcus. “Go and call on + her.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague started. He had not thought of calling on her. The idea + frightened him a little. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” persisted Marcus, “that's the proper caper. What did you + expect? Did you think you was never going to see her again?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, I don' know,” responded the dentist, looking stupidly at the + dog. + </p> + <p> + “You know where they live,” continued Marcus Schouler. “Over at B Street + station, across the bay. I'll take you over there whenever you want to go. + I tell you what, we'll go over there Washington's Birthday. That's this + next Wednesday; sure, they'll be glad to see you.” It was good of Marcus. + All at once McTeague rose to an appreciation of what his friend was doing + for him. He stammered: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mark—you're—you're all right, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, pshaw!” said Marcus. “That's all right, old man. I'd like to see you + two fixed, that's all. We'll go over Wednesday, sure.” + </p> + <p> + They turned back to the house. Alexander left off eating and watched them + go away, first with one eye, then with the other. But he was too + self-respecting to whimper. However, by the time the two friends had + reached the second landing on the back stairs a terrible commotion was + under way in the little yard. They rushed to an open window at the end of + the hall and looked down. + </p> + <p> + A thin board fence separated the flat's back yard from that used by the + branch post-office. In the latter place lived a collie dog. He and + Alexander had smelt each other out, blowing through the cracks of the + fence at each other. Suddenly the quarrel had exploded on either side of + the fence. The dogs raged at each other, snarling and barking, frantic + with hate. Their teeth gleamed. They tore at the fence with their front + paws. They filled the whole night with their clamor. + </p> + <p> + “By damn!” cried Marcus, “they don't love each other. Just listen; + wouldn't that make a fight if the two got together? Have to try it some + day.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5 + </h2> + <p> + Wednesday morning, Washington's Birthday, McTeague rose very early and + shaved himself. Besides the six mournful concertina airs, the dentist knew + one song. Whenever he shaved, he sung this song; never at any other time. + His voice was a bellowing roar, enough to make the window sashes rattle. + Just now he woke up all the lodgers in his hall with it. It was a + lamentable wail: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No one to love, none to caress, + Left all alone in this world's wilderness.” + </pre> + <p> + As he paused to strop his razor, Marcus came into his room, half-dressed, + a startling phantom in red flannels. + </p> + <p> + Marcus often ran back and forth between his room and the dentist's + “Parlors” in all sorts of undress. Old Miss Baker had seen him thus + several times through her half-open door, as she sat in her room listening + and waiting. The old dressmaker was shocked out of all expression. She was + outraged, offended, pursing her lips, putting up her head. She talked of + complaining to the landlady. “And Mr. Grannis right next door, too. You + can understand how trying it is for both of us.” She would come out in the + hall after one of these apparitions, her little false curls shaking, + talking loud and shrill to any one in reach of her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Marcus would shout, “shut your door, then, if you don't want to + see. Look out, now, here I come again. Not even a porous plaster on me + this time.” + </p> + <p> + On this Wednesday morning Marcus called McTeague out into the hall, to the + head of the stairs that led down to the street door. + </p> + <p> + “Come and listen to Maria, Mac,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Maria sat on the next to the lowest step, her chin propped by her two + fists. The red-headed Polish Jew, the ragman Zerkow, stood in the doorway. + He was talking eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, just once more, Maria,” he was saying. “Tell it to us just once + more.” Maria's voice came up the stairway in a monotone. Marcus and + McTeague caught a phrase from time to time. + </p> + <p> + “There were more than a hundred pieces, and every one of them gold—just + that punch-bowl was worth a fortune-thick, fat, red gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Get onto to that, will you?” observed Marcus. “The old skin has got her + started on the plate. Ain't they a pair for you?” + </p> + <p> + “And it rang like bells, didn't it?” prompted Zerkow. + </p> + <p> + “Sweeter'n church bells, and clearer.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sweeter'n bells. Wasn't that punch-bowl awful heavy?” + </p> + <p> + “All you could do to lift it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Oh, I know,” answered Zerkow, clawing at his lips. “Where did it + all go to? Where did it go?” + </p> + <p> + Maria shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It's gone, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, gone, gone! Think of it! The punch-bowl gone, and the engraved ladle, + and the plates and goblets. What a sight it must have been all heaped + together!” + </p> + <p> + “It was a wonderful sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, wonderful; it must have been.” + </p> + <p> + On the lower steps of that cheap flat, the Mexican woman and the + red-haired Polish Jew mused long over that vanished, half-mythical gold + plate. + </p> + <p> + Marcus and the dentist spent Washington's Birthday across the bay. The + journey over was one long agony to McTeague. He shook with a formless, + uncertain dread; a dozen times he would have turned back had not Marcus + been with him. The stolid giant was as nervous as a schoolboy. He fancied + that his call upon Miss Sieppe was an outrageous affront. She would freeze + him with a stare; he would be shown the door, would be ejected, disgraced. + </p> + <p> + As they got off the local train at B Street station they suddenly collided + with the whole tribe of Sieppes—the mother, father, three children, + and Trina—equipped for one of their eternal picnics. They were to go + to Schuetzen Park, within walking distance of the station. They were + grouped about four lunch baskets. One of the children, a little boy, held + a black greyhound by a rope around its neck. Trina wore a blue cloth + skirt, a striped shirt waist, and a white sailor; about her round waist + was a belt of imitation alligator skin. + </p> + <p> + At once Mrs. Sieppe began to talk to Marcus. He had written of their + coming, but the picnic had been decided upon after the arrival of his + letter. Mrs. Sieppe explained this to him. She was an immense old lady + with a pink face and wonderful hair, absolutely white. The Sieppes were a + German-Swiss family. + </p> + <p> + “We go to der park, Schuetzen Park, mit alle dem childern, a little + eggs-kursion, eh not soh? We breathe der freshes air, a celubration, a + pignic bei der seashore on. Ach, dot wull be soh gay, ah?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it will. It'll be outa sight,” cried Marcus, enthusiastic in an + instant. “This is m' friend Doctor McTeague I wrote you about, Mrs. + Sieppe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ach, der doktor,” cried Mrs. Sieppe. + </p> + <p> + McTeague was presented, shaking hands gravely as Marcus shouldered him + from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sieppe was a little man of a military aspect, full of importance, + taking himself very seriously. He was a member of a rifle team. Over his + shoulder was slung a Springfield rifle, while his breast was decorated by + five bronze medals. + </p> + <p> + Trina was delighted. McTeague was dumfounded. She appeared positively glad + to see him. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Doctor McTeague,” she said, smiling at him and shaking his + hand. “It's nice to see you again. Look, see how fine my filling is.” She + lifted a corner of her lip and showed him the clumsy gold bridge. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Mr. Sieppe toiled and perspired. Upon him devolved the + responsibility of the excursion. He seemed to consider it a matter of vast + importance, a veritable expedition. + </p> + <p> + “Owgooste!” he shouted to the little boy with the black greyhound, “you + will der hound und basket number three carry. Der tervins,” he added, + calling to the two smallest boys, who were dressed exactly alike, “will + releef one unudder mit der camp-stuhl und basket number four. Dat is + comprehend, hay? When we make der start, you childern will in der advance + march. Dat is your orders. But we do not start,” he exclaimed, excitedly; + “we remain. Ach Gott, Selina, who does not arrive.” + </p> + <p> + Selina, it appeared, was a niece of Mrs. Sieppe's. They were on the point + of starting without her, when she suddenly arrived, very much out of + breath. She was a slender, unhealthy looking girl, who overworked herself + giving lessons in hand-painting at twenty-five cents an hour. McTeague was + presented. They all began to talk at once, filling the little + station-house with a confusion of tongues. + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” cried Mr. Sieppe, his gold-headed cane in one hand, his + Springfield in the other. “Attention! We depart.” The four little boys + moved off ahead; the greyhound suddenly began to bark, and tug at his + leash. The others picked up their bundles. + </p> + <p> + “Vorwarts!” shouted Mr. Sieppe, waving his rifle and assuming the attitude + of a lieutenant of infantry leading a charge. The party set off down the + railroad track. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sieppe walked with her husband, who constantly left her side to shout + an order up and down the line. Marcus followed with Selina. McTeague found + himself with Trina at the end of the procession. + </p> + <p> + “We go off on these picnics almost every week,” said Trina, by way of a + beginning, “and almost every holiday, too. It is a custom.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, a custom,” answered McTeague, nodding; “a custom—that's + the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think picnics are fine fun, Doctor McTeague?” she continued. + “You take your lunch; you leave the dirty city all day; you race about in + the open air, and when lunchtime comes, oh, aren't you hungry? And the + woods and the grass smell so fine!” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, Miss Sieppe,” he answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the + ground between the rails. “I never went on a picnic.” + </p> + <p> + “Never went on a picnic?” she cried, astonished. “Oh, you'll see what fun + we'll have. In the morning father and the children dig clams in the mud by + the shore, an' we bake them, and—oh, there's thousands of things to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “Once I went sailing on the bay,” said McTeague. “It was in a tugboat; we + fished off the heads. I caught three codfishes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid to go out on the bay,” answered Trina, shaking her head, + “sailboats tip over so easy. A cousin of mine, Selina's brother, was + drowned one Decoration Day. They never found his body. Can you swim, + Doctor McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “I used to at the mine.” + </p> + <p> + “At the mine? Oh, yes, I remember, Marcus told me you were a miner once.” + </p> + <p> + “I was a car-boy; all the car-boys used to swim in the reservoir by the + ditch every Thursday evening. One of them was bit by a rattlesnake once + while he was dressing. He was a Frenchman, named Andrew. He swelled up and + began to twitch.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how I hate snakes! They're so crawly and graceful—but, just the + same, I like to watch them. You know that drug store over in town that has + a showcase full of live ones?” + </p> + <p> + “We killed the rattler with a cart whip.” + </p> + <p> + “How far do you think you could swim? Did you ever try? D'you think you + could swim a mile?” + </p> + <p> + “A mile? I don't know. I never tried. I guess I could.” + </p> + <p> + “I can swim a little. Sometimes we all go out to the Crystal Baths.” + </p> + <p> + “The Crystal Baths, huh? Can you swim across the tank?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can swim all right as long as papa holds my chin up. Soon as he + takes his hand away, down I go. Don't you hate to get water in your ears?” + </p> + <p> + “Bathing's good for you.” + </p> + <p> + “If the water's too warm, it isn't. It weakens you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sieppe came running down the tracks, waving his cane. + </p> + <p> + “To one side,” he shouted, motioning them off the track; “der drain + gomes.” A local passenger train was just passing B Street station, some + quarter of a mile behind them. The party stood to one side to let it pass. + Marcus put a nickel and two crossed pins upon the rail, and waved his hat + to the passengers as the train roared past. The children shouted shrilly. + When the train was gone, they all rushed to see the nickel and the crossed + pins. The nickel had been jolted off, but the pins had been flattened out + so that they bore a faint resemblance to opened scissors. A great + contention arose among the children for the possession of these + “scissors.” Mr. Sieppe was obliged to intervene. He reflected gravely. It + was a matter of tremendous moment. The whole party halted, awaiting his + decision. + </p> + <p> + “Attend now,” he suddenly exclaimed. “It will not be soh soon. At der end + of der day, ven we shall have home gecommen, den wull it pe adjudge, eh? A + REward of merit to him who der bes' pehaves. It is an order. Vorwarts!” + </p> + <p> + “That was a Sacramento train,” said Marcus to Selina as they started off; + “it was, for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “I know a girl in Sacramento,” Trina told McTeague. “She's forewoman in a + glove store, and she's got consumption.” + </p> + <p> + “I was in Sacramento once,” observed McTeague, “nearly eight years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it a nice place—as nice as San Francisco?” + </p> + <p> + “It's hot. I practised there for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “I like San Francisco,” said Trina, looking across the bay to where the + city piled itself upon its hills. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” answered McTeague. “Do you like it better than living over + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure, I wish we lived in the city. If you want to go across for + anything it takes up the whole day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, the whole day—almost.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know many people in the city? Do you know anybody named + Oelbermann? That's my uncle. He has a wholesale toy store in the Mission. + They say he's awful rich.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don' know him.” + </p> + <p> + “His stepdaughter wants to be a nun. Just fancy! And Mr. Oelbermann won't + have it. He says it would be just like burying his child. Yes, she wants + to enter the convent of the Sacred Heart. Are you a Catholic, Doctor + McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Papa is a Catholic. He goes to Mass on the feast days once in a while. + But mamma's Lutheran.” + </p> + <p> + “The Catholics are trying to get control of the schools,” observed + McTeague, suddenly remembering one of Marcus's political tirades. + </p> + <p> + “That's what cousin Mark says. We are going to send the twins to the + kindergarten next month.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the kindergarten?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they teach them to make things out of straw and toothpicks—kind + of a play place to keep them off the street.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one up on Sacramento Street, not far from Polk Street. I saw the + sign.” + </p> + <p> + “I know where. Why, Selina used to play the piano there.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she play the piano?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ought to hear her. She plays fine. Selina's very accomplished. + She paints, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I can play on the concertina.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, can you? I wish you'd brought it along. Next time you will. I hope + you'll come often on our picnics. You'll see what fun we'll have.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine day for a picnic, ain't it? There ain't a cloud.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” exclaimed Trina, looking up, “not a single cloud. Oh, yes; + there is one, just over Telegraph Hill.” + </p> + <p> + “That's smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's a cloud. Smoke isn't white that way.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a cloud.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew I was right. I never say a thing unless I'm pretty sure.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a dog's head.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't it? Isn't Marcus fond of dogs?” + </p> + <p> + “He got a new dog last week—a setter.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He and I took a lot of dogs from his hospital out for a walk to the + Cliff House last Sunday, but we had to walk all the way home, because they + wouldn't follow. You've been out to the Cliff House?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a long time. We had a picnic there one Fourth of July, but it + rained. Don't you love the ocean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes, I like it pretty well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'd like to go off in one of those big sailing ships. Just away, and + away, and away, anywhere. They're different from a little yacht. I'd love + to travel.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure; so would I.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa and mamma came over in a sailing ship. They were twenty-one days. + Mamma's uncle used to be a sailor. He was captain of a steamer on Lake + Geneva, in Switzerland.” + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” shouted Mr. Sieppe, brandishing his rifle. They had arrived at the + gates of the park. All at once McTeague turned cold. He had only a quarter + in his pocket. What was he expected to do—pay for the whole party, + or for Trina and himself, or merely buy his own ticket? And even in this + latter case would a quarter be enough? He lost his wits, rolling his eyes + helplessly. Then it occurred to him to feign a great abstraction, + pretending not to know that the time was come to pay. He looked intently + up and down the tracks; perhaps a train was coming. “Here we are,” cried + Trina, as they came up to the rest of the party, crowded about the + entrance. “Yes, yes,” observed McTeague, his head in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Gi' me four bits, Mac,” said Marcus, coming up. “Here's where we shell + out.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I only got a quarter,” mumbled the dentist, miserably. He + felt that he had ruined himself forever with Trina. What was the use of + trying to win her? Destiny was against him. “I only got a quarter,” he + stammered. He was on the point of adding that he would not go in the park. + That seemed to be the only alternative. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right!” said Marcus, easily. “I'll pay for you, and you can + square with me when we go home.” + </p> + <p> + They filed into the park, Mr. Sieppe counting them off as they entered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Trina, with a long breath, as she and McTeague pushed through + the wicket, “here we are once more, Doctor.” She had not appeared to + notice McTeague's embarrassment. The difficulty had been tided over + somehow. Once more McTeague felt himself saved. + </p> + <p> + “To der beach!” shouted Mr. Sieppe. They had checked their baskets at the + peanut stand. The whole party trooped down to the seashore. The greyhound + was turned loose. The children raced on ahead. + </p> + <p> + From one of the larger parcels Mrs. Sieppe had drawn forth a small tin + steamboat—August's birthday present—a gaudy little toy which + could be steamed up and navigated by means of an alcohol lamp. Her trial + trip was to be made this morning. + </p> + <p> + “Gi' me it, gi' me it,” shouted August, dancing around his father. + </p> + <p> + “Not soh, not soh,” cried Mr. Sieppe, bearing it aloft. “I must first der + eggsperimunt make.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” wailed August. “I want to play with ut.” + </p> + <p> + “Obey!” thundered Mr. Sieppe. August subsided. A little jetty ran part of + the way into the water. Here, after a careful study of the directions + printed on the cover of the box, Mr. Sieppe began to fire the little boat. + </p> + <p> + “I want to put ut in the wa-ater,” cried August. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back!” shouted his parent. “You do not know so well as me; dere is + dandger. Mitout attention he will eggsplode.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to play with ut,” protested August, beginning to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, soh; you cry, bube!” vociferated Mr. Sieppe. “Mommer,” addressing + Mrs. Sieppe, “he will soh soon be ge-whipt, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I want my boa-wut,” screamed August, dancing. + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” roared Mr. Sieppe. The little boat began to hiss and smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Soh,” observed the father, “he gommence. Attention! I put him in der + water.” He was very excited. The perspiration dripped from the back of his + neck. The little boat was launched. It hissed more furiously than ever. + Clouds of steam rolled from it, but it refused to move. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know how she wo-rks,” sobbed August. + </p> + <p> + “I know more soh mudge as der grossest liddle fool as you,” cried Mr. + Sieppe, fiercely, his face purple. + </p> + <p> + “You must give it sh—shove!” exclaimed the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Den he eggsplode, idiot!” shouted his father. All at once the boiler of + the steamer blew up with a sharp crack. The little tin toy turned over and + sank out of sight before any one could interfere. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—h! Yah! Yah!” yelled August. “It's go-one!” + </p> + <p> + Instantly Mr. Sieppe boxed his ears. There was a lamentable scene. August + rent the air with his outcries; his father shook him till his boots danced + on the jetty, shouting into his face: + </p> + <p> + “Ach, idiot! Ach, imbecile! Ach, miserable! I tol' you he eggsplode. Stop + your cry. Stop! It is an order. Do you wish I drow you in der water, eh? + Speak. Silence, bube! Mommer, where ist mein stick? He will der grossest + whippun ever of his life receive.” + </p> + <p> + Little by little the boy subsided, swallowing his sobs, knuckling his + eyes, gazing ruefully at the spot where the boat had sunk. “Dot is better + soh,” commented Mr. Sieppe, finally releasing him. “Next dime berhaps you + will your fat'er better pelief. Now, no more. We will der glams ge-dig, + Mommer, a fire. Ach, himmel! we have der pfeffer forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + The work of clam digging began at once, the little boys taking off their + shoes and stockings. At first August refused to be comforted, and it was + not until his father drove him into the water with his gold-headed cane + that he consented to join the others. + </p> + <p> + What a day that was for McTeague! What a never-to-be-forgotten day! He was + with Trina constantly. They laughed together—she demurely, her lips + closed tight, her little chin thrust out, her small pale nose, with its + adorable little freckles, wrinkling; he roared with all the force of his + lungs, his enormous mouth distended, striking sledge-hammer blows upon his + knee with his clenched fist. + </p> + <p> + The lunch was delicious. Trina and her mother made a clam chowder that + melted in one's mouth. The lunch baskets were emptied. The party were + fully two hours eating. There were huge loaves of rye bread full of grains + of chickweed. There were weiner-wurst and frankfurter sausages. There was + unsalted butter. There were pretzels. There was cold underdone chicken, + which one ate in slices, plastered with a wonderful kind of mustard that + did not sting. There were dried apples, that gave Mr. Sieppe the + hiccoughs. There were a dozen bottles of beer, and, last of all, a + crowning achievement, a marvellous Gotha truffle. After lunch came + tobacco. Stuffed to the eyes, McTeague drowsed over his pipe, prone on his + back in the sun, while Trina, Mrs. Sieppe, and Selina washed the dishes. + In the afternoon Mr. Sieppe disappeared. They heard the reports of his + rifle on the range. The others swarmed over the park, now around the + swings, now in the Casino, now in the museum, now invading the + merry-go-round. + </p> + <p> + At half-past five o'clock Mr. Sieppe marshalled the party together. It was + time to return home. + </p> + <p> + The family insisted that Marcus and McTeague should take supper with them + at their home and should stay over night. Mrs. Sieppe argued they could + get no decent supper if they went back to the city at that hour; that they + could catch an early morning boat and reach their business in good time. + The two friends accepted. + </p> + <p> + The Sieppes lived in a little box of a house at the foot of B Street, the + first house to the right as one went up from the station. It was two + stories high, with a funny red mansard roof of oval slates. The interior + was cut up into innumerable tiny rooms, some of them so small as to be + hardly better than sleeping closets. In the back yard was a contrivance + for pumping water from the cistern that interested McTeague at once. It + was a dog-wheel, a huge revolving box in which the unhappy black greyhound + spent most of his waking hours. It was his kennel; he slept in it. From + time to time during the day Mrs. Sieppe appeared on the back doorstep, + crying shrilly, “Hoop, hoop!” She threw lumps of coal at him, waking him + to his work. + </p> + <p> + They were all very tired, and went to bed early. After great discussion it + was decided that Marcus would sleep upon the lounge in the front parlor. + Trina would sleep with August, giving up her room to McTeague. Selina went + to her home, a block or so above the Sieppes's. At nine o'clock Mr. Sieppe + showed McTeague to his room and left him to himself with a newly lighted + candle. + </p> + <p> + For a long time after Mr. Sieppe had gone McTeague stood motionless in the + middle of the room, his elbows pressed close to his sides, looking + obliquely from the corners of his eyes. He hardly dared to move. He was in + Trina's room. + </p> + <p> + It was an ordinary little room. A clean white matting was on the floor; + gray paper, spotted with pink and green flowers, covered the walls. In one + corner, under a white netting, was a little bed, the woodwork gayly + painted with knots of bright flowers. Near it, against the wall, was a + black walnut bureau. A work-table with spiral legs stood by the window, + which was hung with a green and gold window curtain. Opposite the window + the closet door stood ajar, while in the corner across from the bed was a + tiny washstand with two clean towels. + </p> + <p> + And that was all. But it was Trina's room. McTeague was in his lady's + bower; it seemed to him a little nest, intimate, discreet. He felt + hideously out of place. He was an intruder; he, with his enormous feet, + his colossal bones, his crude, brutal gestures. The mere weight of his + limbs, he was sure, would crush the little bed-stead like an eggshell. + </p> + <p> + Then, as this first sensation wore off, he began to feel the charm of the + little chamber. It was as though Trina were close by, but invisible. + McTeague felt all the delight of her presence without the embarrassment + that usually accompanied it. He was near to her—nearer than he had + ever been before. He saw into her daily life, her little ways and manners, + her habits, her very thoughts. And was there not in the air of that room a + certain faint perfume that he knew, that recalled her to his mind with + marvellous vividness? + </p> + <p> + As he put the candle down upon the bureau he saw her hairbrush lying + there. Instantly he picked it up, and, without knowing why, held it to his + face. With what a delicious odor was it redolent! That heavy, enervating + odor of her hair—her wonderful, royal hair! The smell of that little + hairbrush was talismanic. He had but to close his eyes to see her as + distinctly as in a mirror. He saw her tiny, round figure, dressed all in + black—for, curiously enough, it was his very first impression of + Trina that came back to him now—not the Trina of the later + occasions, not the Trina of the blue cloth skirt and white sailor. He saw + her as he had seen her the day that Marcus had introduced them: saw her + pale, round face; her narrow, half-open eyes, blue like the eyes of a + baby; her tiny, pale ears, suggestive of anaemia; the freckles across the + bridge of her nose; her pale lips; the tiara of royal black hair; and, + above all, the delicious poise of the head, tipped back as though by the + weight of all that hair—the poise that thrust out her chin a little, + with the movement that was so confiding, so innocent, so nearly infantile. + </p> + <p> + McTeague went softly about the room from one object to another, beholding + Trina in everything he touched or looked at. He came at last to the closet + door. It was ajar. He opened it wide, and paused upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Trina's clothes were hanging there—skirts and waists, jackets, and + stiff white petticoats. What a vision! For an instant McTeague caught his + breath, spellbound. If he had suddenly discovered Trina herself there, + smiling at him, holding out her hands, he could hardly have been more + overcome. Instantly he recognized the black dress she had worn on that + famous first day. There it was, the little jacket she had carried over her + arm the day he had terrified her with his blundering declaration, and + still others, and others—a whole group of Trinas faced him there. He + went farther into the closet, touching the clothes gingerly, stroking them + softly with his huge leathern palms. As he stirred them a delicate perfume + disengaged itself from the folds. Ah, that exquisite feminine odor! It was + not only her hair now, it was Trina herself—her mouth, her hands, + her neck; the indescribably sweet, fleshly aroma that was a part of her, + pure and clean, and redolent of youth and freshness. All at once, seized + with an unreasoned impulse, McTeague opened his huge arms and gathered the + little garments close to him, plunging his face deep amongst them, + savoring their delicious odor with long breaths of luxury and supreme + content. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The picnic at Schuetzen Park decided matters. McTeague began to call on + Trina regularly Sunday and Wednesday afternoons. He took Marcus Schouler's + place. Sometimes Marcus accompanied him, but it was generally to meet + Selina by appointment at the Sieppes's house. + </p> + <p> + But Marcus made the most of his renunciation of his cousin. He remembered + his pose from time to time. He made McTeague unhappy and bewildered by + wringing his hand, by venting sighs that seemed to tear his heart out, or + by giving evidences of an infinite melancholy. “What is my life!” he would + exclaim. “What is left for me? Nothing, by damn!” And when McTeague would + attempt remonstrance, he would cry: “Never mind, old man. Never mind me. + Go, be happy. I forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + Forgive what? McTeague was all at sea, was harassed with the thought of + some shadowy, irreparable injury he had done his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't think of me!” Marcus would exclaim at other times, even when + Trina was by. “Don't think of me; I don't count any more. I ain't in it.” + Marcus seemed to take great pleasure in contemplating the wreck of his + life. There is no doubt he enjoyed himself hugely during these days. + </p> + <p> + The Sieppes were at first puzzled as well over this change of front. + </p> + <p> + “Trina has den a new younge man,” cried Mr. Sieppe. “First Schouler, now + der doktor, eh? What die tevil, I say!” + </p> + <p> + Weeks passed, February went, March came in very rainy, putting a stop to + all their picnics and Sunday excursions. + </p> + <p> + One Wednesday afternoon in the second week in March McTeague came over to + call on Trina, bringing his concertina with him, as was his custom + nowadays. As he got off the train at the station he was surprised to find + Trina waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first day it hasn't rained in weeks,” she explained, “an' I + thought it would be nice to walk.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” assented McTeague. + </p> + <p> + B Street station was nothing more than a little shed. There was no ticket + office, nothing but a couple of whittled and carven benches. It was built + close to the railroad tracks, just across which was the dirty, muddy shore + of San Francisco Bay. About a quarter of a mile back from the station was + the edge of the town of Oakland. Between the station and the first houses + of the town lay immense salt flats, here and there broken by winding + streams of black water. They were covered with a growth of wiry grass, + strangely discolored in places by enormous stains of orange yellow. + </p> + <p> + Near the station a bit of fence painted with a cigar advertisement reeled + over into the mud, while under its lee lay an abandoned gravel wagon with + dished wheels. The station was connected with the town by the extension of + B Street, which struck across the flats geometrically straight, a file of + tall poles with intervening wires marching along with it. At the station + these were headed by an iron electric-light pole that, with its supports + and outriggers, looked for all the world like an immense grasshopper on + its hind legs. + </p> + <p> + Across the flats, at the fringe of the town, were the dump heaps, the + figures of a few Chinese rag-pickers moving over them. Far to the left the + view was shut off by the immense red-brown drum of the gas-works; to the + right it was bounded by the chimneys and workshops of an iron foundry. + </p> + <p> + Across the railroad tracks, to seaward, one saw the long stretch of black + mud bank left bare by the tide, which was far out, nearly half a mile. + Clouds of sea-gulls were forever rising and settling upon this mud bank; a + wrecked and abandoned wharf crawled over it on tottering legs; close in an + old sailboat lay canted on her bilge. + </p> + <p> + But farther on, across the yellow waters of the bay, beyond Goat Island, + lay San Francisco, a blue line of hills, rugged with roofs and spires. Far + to the westward opened the Golden Gate, a bleak cutting in the sand-hills, + through which one caught a glimpse of the open Pacific. + </p> + <p> + The station at B Street was solitary; no trains passed at this hour; + except the distant rag-pickers, not a soul was in sight. The wind blew + strong, carrying with it the mingled smell of salt, of tar, of dead + seaweed, and of bilge. The sky hung low and brown; at long intervals a few + drops of rain fell. + </p> + <p> + Near the station Trina and McTeague sat on the roadbed of the tracks, at + the edge of the mud bank, making the most out of the landscape, enjoying + the open air, the salt marshes, and the sight of the distant water. From + time to time McTeague played his six mournful airs upon his concertina. + </p> + <p> + After a while they began walking up and down the tracks, McTeague talking + about his profession, Trina listening, very interested and absorbed, + trying to understand. + </p> + <p> + “For pulling the roots of the upper molars we use the cowhorn forceps,” + continued the dentist, monotonously. “We get the inside beak over the + palatal roots and the cow-horn beak over the buccal roots—that's the + roots on the outside, you see. Then we close the forceps, and that breaks + right through the alveolus—that's the part of the socket in the jaw, + you understand.” + </p> + <p> + At another moment he told her of his one unsatisfied desire. “Some day I'm + going to have a big gilded tooth outside my window for a sign. Those big + gold teeth are beautiful, beautiful—only they cost so much, I can't + afford one just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's raining,” suddenly exclaimed Trina, holding out her palm. They + turned back and reached the station in a drizzle. The afternoon was + closing in dark and rainy. The tide was coming back, talking and lapping + for miles along the mud bank. Far off across the flats, at the edge of the + town, an electric car went by, stringing out a long row of diamond sparks + on the overhead wires. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Miss Trina,” said McTeague, after a while, “what's the good of + waiting any longer? Why can't us two get married?” + </p> + <p> + Trina still shook her head, saying “No” instinctively, in spite of + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” persisted McTeague. “Don't you like me well enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, come on,” he said, but Trina still shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, come on,” urged McTeague. He could think of nothing else to say, + repeating the same phrase over and over again to all her refusals. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, come on! Ah, come on!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he took her in his enormous arms, crushing down her struggle with + his immense strength. Then Trina gave up, all in an instant, turning her + head to his. They kissed each other, grossly, full in the mouth. + </p> + <p> + A roar and a jarring of the earth suddenly grew near and passed them in a + reek of steam and hot air. It was the Overland, with its flaming + headlight, on its way across the continent. + </p> + <p> + The passage of the train startled them both. Trina struggled to free + herself from McTeague. “Oh, please! please!” she pleaded, on the point of + tears. McTeague released her, but in that moment a slight, a barely + perceptible, revulsion of feeling had taken place in him. The instant that + Trina gave up, the instant she allowed him to kiss her, he thought less of + her. She was not so desirable, after all. But this reaction was so faint, + so subtle, so intangible, that in another moment he had doubted its + occurrence. Yet afterward it returned. Was there not something gone from + Trina now? Was he not disappointed in her for doing that very thing for + which he had longed? Was Trina the submissive, the compliant, the + attainable just the same, just as delicate and adorable as Trina the + inaccessible? Perhaps he dimly saw that this must be so, that it belonged + to the changeless order of things—the man desiring the woman only + for what she withholds; the woman worshipping the man for that which she + yields up to him. With each concession gained the man's desire cools; with + every surrender made the woman's adoration increases. But why should it be + so? + </p> + <p> + Trina wrenched herself free and drew back from McTeague, her little chin + quivering; her face, even to the lobes of her pale ears, flushed scarlet; + her narrow blue eyes brimming. Suddenly she put her head between her hands + and began to sob. + </p> + <p> + “Say, say, Miss Trina, listen—listen here, Miss Trina,” cried + McTeague, coming forward a step. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't!” she gasped, shrinking. “I must go home,” she cried, springing + to her feet. “It's late. I must. I must. Don't come with me, please. Oh, + I'm so—so,”—she could not find any words. “Let me go alone,” + she went on. “You may—you come Sunday. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” said McTeague, his head in a whirl at this sudden, + unaccountable change. “Can't I kiss you again?” But Trina was firm now. + When it came to his pleading—a mere matter of words—she was + strong enough. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you must not!” she exclaimed, with energy. She was gone in + another instant. The dentist, stunned, bewildered, gazed stupidly after + her as she ran up the extension of B Street through the rain. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly a great joy took possession of him. He had won her. Trina was + to be for him, after all. An enormous smile distended his thick lips; his + eyes grew wide, and flashed; and he drew his breath quickly, striking his + mallet-like fist upon his knee, and exclaiming under his breath: + </p> + <p> + “I got her, by God! I got her, by God!” At the same time he thought better + of himself; his self-respect increased enormously. The man that could win + Trina Sieppe was a man of extraordinary ability. + </p> + <p> + Trina burst in upon her mother while the latter was setting a mousetrap in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Trina? Ach, what has happun?” + </p> + <p> + Trina told her in a breath. + </p> + <p> + “Soh soon?” was Mrs. Sieppe's first comment. “Eh, well, what you cry for, + then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” wailed Trina, plucking at the end of her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “You loaf der younge doktor?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what for you kiss him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “You don' know, you don' know? Where haf your sensus gone, Trina? You kiss + der doktor. You cry, and you don' know. Is ut Marcus den?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not Cousin Mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Den ut must be der doktor.” + </p> + <p> + Trina made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I guess so.” + </p> + <p> + “You loaf him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sieppe set down the mousetrap with such violence that it sprung with + a sharp snap. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6 + </h2> + <p> + No, Trina did not know. “Do I love him? Do I love him?” A thousand times + she put the question to herself during the next two or three days. At + night she hardly slept, but lay broad awake for hours in her little, gayly + painted bed, with its white netting, torturing herself with doubts and + questions. At times she remembered the scene in the station with a + veritable agony of shame, and at other times she was ashamed to recall it + with a thrill of joy. Nothing could have been more sudden, more + unexpected, than that surrender of herself. For over a year she had + thought that Marcus would some day be her husband. They would be married, + she supposed, some time in the future, she did not know exactly when; the + matter did not take definite shape in her mind. She liked Cousin Mark very + well. And then suddenly this cross-current had set in; this blond giant + had appeared, this huge, stolid fellow, with his immense, crude strength. + She had not loved him at first, that was certain. The day he had spoken to + her in his “Parlors” she had only been terrified. If he had confined + himself to merely speaking, as did Marcus, to pleading with her, to wooing + her at a distance, forestalling her wishes, showing her little attentions, + sending her boxes of candy, she could have easily withstood him. But he + had only to take her in his arms, to crush down her struggle with his + enormous strength, to subdue her, conquer her by sheer brute force, and + she gave up in an instant. + </p> + <p> + But why—why had she done so? Why did she feel the desire, the + necessity of being conquered by a superior strength? Why did it please + her? Why had it suddenly thrilled her from head to foot with a quick, + terrifying gust of passion, the like of which she had never known? Never + at his best had Marcus made her feel like that, and yet she had always + thought she cared for Cousin Mark more than for any one else. + </p> + <p> + When McTeague had all at once caught her in his huge arms, something had + leaped to life in her—something that had hitherto lain dormant, + something strong and overpowering. It frightened her now as she thought of + it, this second self that had wakened within her, and that shouted and + clamored for recognition. And yet, was it to be feared? Was it something + to be ashamed of? Was it not, after all, natural, clean, spontaneous? + Trina knew that she was a pure girl; knew that this sudden commotion + within her carried with it no suggestion of vice. + </p> + <p> + Dimly, as figures seen in a waking dream, these ideas floated through + Trina's mind. It was quite beyond her to realize them clearly; she could + not know what they meant. Until that rainy day by the shore of the bay + Trina had lived her life with as little self-consciousness as a tree. She + was frank, straightforward, a healthy, natural human being, without sex as + yet. She was almost like a boy. At once there had been a mysterious + disturbance. The woman within her suddenly awoke. + </p> + <p> + Did she love McTeague? Difficult question. Did she choose him for better + or for worse, deliberately, of her own free will, or was Trina herself + allowed even a choice in the taking of that step that was to make or mar + her life? The Woman is awakened, and, starting from her sleep, catches + blindly at what first her newly opened eyes light upon. It is a spell, a + witchery, ruled by chance alone, inexplicable—a fairy queen enamored + of a clown with ass's ears. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had awakened the Woman, and, whether she would or no, she was his + now irrevocably; struggle against it as she would, she belonged to him, + body and soul, for life or for death. She had not sought it, she had not + desired it. The spell was laid upon her. Was it a blessing? Was it a + curse? It was all one; she was his, indissolubly, for evil or for good. + </p> + <p> + And he? The very act of submission that bound the woman to him forever had + made her seem less desirable in his eyes. Their undoing had already begun. + Yet neither of them was to blame. From the first they had not sought each + other. Chance had brought them face to face, and mysterious instincts as + ungovernable as the winds of heaven were at work knitting their lives + together. Neither of them had asked that this thing should be—that + their destinies, their very souls, should be the sport of chance. If they + could have known, they would have shunned the fearful risk. But they were + allowed no voice in the matter. Why should it all be? + </p> + <p> + It had been on a Wednesday that the scene in the B Street station had + taken place. Throughout the rest of the week, at every hour of the day, + Trina asked herself the same question: “Do I love him? Do I really love + him? Is this what love is like?” As she recalled McTeague—recalled + his huge, square-cut head, his salient jaw, his shock of yellow hair, his + heavy, lumbering body, his slow wits—she found little to admire in + him beyond his physical strength, and at such moments she shook her head + decisively. “No, surely she did not love him.” Sunday afternoon, however, + McTeague called. Trina had prepared a little speech for him. She was to + tell him that she did not know what had been the matter with her that + Wednesday afternoon; that she had acted like a bad girl; that she did not + love him well enough to marry him; that she had told him as much once + before. + </p> + <p> + McTeague saw her alone in the little front parlor. The instant she + appeared he came straight towards her. She saw what he was bent upon + doing. “Wait a minute,” she cried, putting out her hands. “Wait. You don't + understand. I have got something to say to you.” She might as well have + talked to the wind. McTeague put aside her hands with a single gesture, + and gripped her to him in a bearlike embrace that all but smothered her. + Trina was but a reed before that giant strength. McTeague turned her face + to his and kissed her again upon the mouth. Where was all Trina's resolve + then? Where was her carefully prepared little speech? Where was all her + hesitation and torturing doubts of the last few days? She clasped + McTeague's huge red neck with both her slender arms; she raised her + adorable little chin and kissed him in return, exclaiming: “Oh, I do love + you! I do love you!” Never afterward were the two so happy as at that + moment. + </p> + <p> + A little later in that same week, when Marcus and McTeague were taking + lunch at the car conductors' coffee-joint, the former suddenly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac, now that you've got Trina, you ought to do more for her. By + damn! you ought to, for a fact. Why don't you take her out somewhere—to + the theatre, or somewhere? You ain't on to your job.” + </p> + <p> + Naturally, McTeague had told Marcus of his success with Trina. Marcus had + taken on a grand air. + </p> + <p> + “You've got her, have you? Well, I'm glad of it, old man. I am, for a + fact. I know you'll be happy with her. I know how I would have been. I + forgive you; yes, I forgive you, freely.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague had not thought of taking Trina to the theatre. + </p> + <p> + “You think I ought to, Mark?” he inquired, hesitating. Marcus answered, + with his mouth full of suet pudding: + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course. That's the proper caper.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well, that's so. The theatre—that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her to the variety show at the Orpheum. There's a good show there + this week; you'll have to take Mrs. Sieppe, too, of course,” he added. + Marcus was not sure of himself as regarded certain proprieties, nor, for + that matter, were any of the people of the little world of Polk Street. + The shop girls, the plumbers' apprentices, the small tradespeople, and + their like, whose social position was not clearly defined, could never be + sure how far they could go and yet preserve their “respectability.” When + they wished to be “proper,” they invariably overdid the thing. It was not + as if they belonged to the “tough” element, who had no appearances to keep + up. Polk Street rubbed elbows with the “avenue” one block above. There + were certain limits which its dwellers could not overstep; but + unfortunately for them, these limits were poorly defined. They could never + be sure of themselves. At an unguarded moment they might be taken for + “toughs,” so they generally erred in the other direction, and were + absurdly formal. No people have a keener eye for the amenities than those + whose social position is not assured. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure, you'll have to take her mother,” insisted Marcus. “It wouldn't + be the proper racket if you didn't.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague undertook the affair. It was an ordeal. Never in his life had he + been so perturbed, so horribly anxious. He called upon Trina the following + Wednesday and made arrangements. Mrs. Sieppe asked if little August might + be included. It would console him for the loss of his steamboat. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” said McTeague. “August too—everybody,” he added, + vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “We always have to leave so early,” complained Trina, “in order to catch + the last boat. Just when it's becoming interesting.” + </p> + <p> + At this McTeague, acting upon a suggestion of Marcus Schouler's, insisted + they should stay at the flat over night. Marcus and the dentist would give + up their rooms to them and sleep at the dog hospital. There was a bed + there in the sick ward that old Grannis sometimes occupied when a bad case + needed watching. All at once McTeague had an idea, a veritable + inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “And we'll—we'll—we'll have—what's the matter with + having something to eat afterward in my 'Parlors'?” + </p> + <p> + “Vairy goot,” commented Mrs. Sieppe. “Bier, eh? And some damales.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I love tamales!” exclaimed Trina, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + McTeague returned to the city, rehearsing his instructions over and over. + The theatre party began to assume tremendous proportions. First of all, he + was to get the seats, the third or fourth row from the front, on the + left-hand side, so as to be out of the hearing of the drums in the + orchestra; he must make arrangements about the rooms with Marcus, must get + in the beer, but not the tamales; must buy for himself a white lawn tie—so + Marcus directed; must look to it that Maria Macapa put his room in perfect + order; and, finally, must meet the Sieppes at the ferry slip at half-past + seven the following Monday night. + </p> + <p> + The real labor of the affair began with the buying of the tickets. At the + theatre McTeague got into wrong entrances; was sent from one wicket to + another; was bewildered, confused; misunderstood directions; was at one + moment suddenly convinced that he had not enough money with him, and + started to return home. Finally he found himself at the box-office wicket. + </p> + <p> + “Is it here you buy your seats?” + </p> + <p> + “How many?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it here—” + </p> + <p> + “What night do you want 'em? Yes, sir, here's the place.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague gravely delivered himself of the formula he had been reciting for + the last dozen hours. + </p> + <p> + “I want four seats for Monday night in the fourth row from the front, and + on the right-hand side.” + </p> + <p> + “Right hand as you face the house or as you face the stage?” McTeague was + dumfounded. + </p> + <p> + “I want to be on the right-hand side,” he insisted, stolidly; adding, “in + order to be away from the drums.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the drums are on the right of the orchestra as you face the stage,” + shouted the other impatiently; “you want to the left, then, as you face + the house.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to be on the right-hand side,” persisted the dentist. + </p> + <p> + Without a word the seller threw out four tickets with a magnificent, + supercilious gesture. + </p> + <p> + “There's four seats on the right-hand side, then, and you're right up + against the drums.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to be near the drums,” protested McTeague, beginning to + perspire. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what you want at all?” said the ticket seller with calmness, + thrusting his head at McTeague. The dentist knew that he had hurt this + young man's feelings. + </p> + <p> + “I want—I want,” he stammered. The seller slammed down a plan of the + house in front of him and began to explain excitedly. It was the one thing + lacking to complete McTeague's confusion. + </p> + <p> + “There are your seats,” finished the seller, shoving the tickets into + McTeague's hands. “They are the fourth row from the front, and away from + the drums. Now are you satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + “Are they on the right-hand side? I want on the right—no, I want on + the left. I want—I don' know, I don' know.” + </p> + <p> + The seller roared. McTeague moved slowly away, gazing stupidly at the blue + slips of pasteboard. Two girls took his place at the wicket. In another + moment McTeague came back, peering over the girls' shoulders and calling + to the seller: + </p> + <p> + “Are these for Monday night?” + </p> + <p> + The other disdained reply. McTeague retreated again timidly, thrusting the + tickets into his immense wallet. For a moment he stood thoughtful on the + steps of the entrance. Then all at once he became enraged, he did not know + exactly why; somehow he felt himself slighted. Once more he came back to + the wicket. + </p> + <p> + “You can't make small of me,” he shouted over the girls' shoulders; “you—you + can't make small of me. I'll thump you in the head, you little—you + little—you little—little—little pup.” The ticket seller + shrugged his shoulders wearily. “A dollar and a half,” he said to the two + girls. + </p> + <p> + McTeague glared at him and breathed loudly. Finally he decided to let the + matter drop. He moved away, but on the steps was once more seized with a + sense of injury and outraged dignity. + </p> + <p> + “You can't make small of me,” he called back a last time, wagging his head + and shaking his fist. “I will—I will—I will—yes, I + will.” He went off muttering. + </p> + <p> + At last Monday night came. McTeague met the Sieppes at the ferry, dressed + in a black Prince Albert coat and his best slate-blue trousers, and + wearing the made-up lawn necktie that Marcus had selected for him. Trina + was very pretty in the black dress that McTeague knew so well. She wore a + pair of new gloves. Mrs. Sieppe had on lisle-thread mits, and carried two + bananas and an orange in a net reticule. “For Owgooste,” she confided to + him. Owgooste was in a Fauntleroy “costume” very much too small for him. + Already he had been crying. + </p> + <p> + “Woult you pelief, Doktor, dot bube has torn his stockun alreatty? Walk in + der front, you; stop cryun. Where is dot berliceman?” + </p> + <p> + At the door of the theatre McTeague was suddenly seized with a panic + terror. He had lost the tickets. He tore through his pockets, ransacked + his wallet. They were nowhere to be found. All at once he remembered, and + with a gasp of relief removed his hat and took them out from beneath the + sweatband. + </p> + <p> + The party entered and took their places. It was absurdly early. The lights + were all darkened, the ushers stood under the galleries in groups, the + empty auditorium echoing with their noisy talk. Occasionally a waiter with + his tray and clean white apron sauntered up and doun the aisle. Directly + in front of them was the great iron curtain of the stage, painted with all + manner of advertisements. From behind this came a noise of hammering and + of occasional loud voices. + </p> + <p> + While waiting they studied their programmes. First was an overture by the + orchestra, after which came “The Gleasons, in their mirth-moving musical + farce, entitled 'McMonnigal's Court-ship.'” This was to be followed by + “The Lamont Sisters, Winnie and Violet, serio-comiques and skirt dancers.” + And after this came a great array of other “artists” and “specialty + performers,” musical wonders, acrobats, lightning artists, ventriloquists, + and last of all, “The feature of the evening, the crowning scientific + achievement of the nineteenth century, the kinetoscope.” McTeague was + excited, dazzled. In five years he had not been twice to the theatre. Now + he beheld himself inviting his “girl” and her mother to accompany him. He + began to feel that he was a man of the world. He ordered a cigar. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the house was filling up. A few side brackets were turned on. + The ushers ran up and down the aisles, stubs of tickets between their + thumb and finger, and from every part of the auditorium could be heard the + sharp clap-clapping of the seats as the ushers flipped them down. A buzz + of talk arose. In the gallery a street gamin whistled shrilly, and called + to some friends on the other side of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Are they go-wun to begin pretty soon, ma?” whined Owgooste for the fifth + or sixth time; adding, “Say, ma, can't I have some candy?” A cadaverous + little boy had appeared in their aisle, chanting, “Candies, French mixed + candies, popcorn, peanuts and candy.” The orchestra entered, each man + crawling out from an opening under the stage, hardly larger than the gate + of a rabbit hutch. At every instant now the crowd increased; there were + but few seats that were not taken. The waiters hurried up and down the + aisles, their trays laden with beer glasses. A smell of cigar-smoke filled + the air, and soon a faint blue haze rose from all corners of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Ma, when are they go-wun to begin?” cried Owgooste. As he spoke the iron + advertisement curtain rose, disclosing the curtain proper underneath. This + latter curtain was quite an affair. Upon it was painted a wonderful + picture. A flight of marble steps led down to a stream of water; two white + swans, their necks arched like the capital letter S, floated about. At the + head of the marble steps were two vases filled with red and yellow + flowers, while at the foot was moored a gondola. This gondola was full of + red velvet rugs that hung over the side and trailed in the water. In the + prow of the gondola a young man in vermilion tights held a mandolin in his + left hand, and gave his right to a girl in white satin. A King Charles + spaniel, dragging a leading-string in the shape of a huge pink sash, + followed the girl. Seven scarlet roses were scattered upon the two lowest + steps, and eight floated in the water. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that pretty, Mac?” exclaimed Trina, turning to the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “Ma, ain't they go-wun to begin now-wow?” whined Owgooste. Suddenly the + lights all over the house blazed up. “Ah!” said everybody all at once. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't ut crowdut?” murmured Mr. Sieppe. Every seat was taken; many were + even standing up. + </p> + <p> + “I always like it better when there is a crowd,” said Trina. She was in + great spirits that evening. Her round, pale face was positively pink. + </p> + <p> + The orchestra banged away at the overture, suddenly finishing with a great + flourish of violins. A short pause followed. Then the orchestra played a + quick-step strain, and the curtain rose on an interior furnished with two + red chairs and a green sofa. A girl in a short blue dress and black + stockings entered in a hurry and began to dust the two chairs. She was in + a great temper, talking very fast, disclaiming against the “new lodger.” + It appeared that this latter never paid his rent; that he was given to + late hours. Then she came down to the footlights and began to sing in a + tremendous voice, hoarse and flat, almost like a man's. The chorus, of a + feeble originality, ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, how happy I will be, + When my darling's face I'll see; + Oh, tell him for to meet me in the moonlight, + Down where the golden lilies bloom.” + </pre> + <p> + The orchestra played the tune of this chorus a second time, with certain + variations, while the girl danced to it. She sidled to one side of the + stage and kicked, then sidled to the other and kicked again. As she + finished with the song, a man, evidently the lodger in question, came in. + Instantly McTeague exploded in a roar of laughter. The man was + intoxicated, his hat was knocked in, one end of his collar was unfastened + and stuck up into his face, his watch-chain dangled from his pocket, and a + yellow satin slipper was tied to a button-hole of his vest; his nose was + vermilion, one eye was black and blue. After a short dialogue with the + girl, a third actor appeared. He was dressed like a little boy, the girl's + younger brother. He wore an immense turned-down collar, and was + continually doing hand-springs and wonderful back somersaults. The “act” + devolved upon these three people; the lodger making love to the girl in + the short blue dress, the boy playing all manner of tricks upon him, + giving him tremendous digs in the ribs or slaps upon the back that made + him cough, pulling chairs from under him, running on all fours between his + legs and upsetting him, knocking him over at inopportune moments. Every + one of his falls was accentuated by a bang upon the bass drum. The whole + humor of the “act” seemed to consist in the tripping up of the intoxicated + lodger. + </p> + <p> + This horse-play delighted McTeague beyond measure. He roared and shouted + every time the lodger went down, slapping his knee, wagging his head. + Owgooste crowed shrilly, clapping his hands and continually asking, “What + did he say, ma? What did he say?” Mrs. Sieppe laughed immoderately, her + huge fat body shaking like a mountain of jelly. She exclaimed from time to + time, “Ach, Gott, dot fool!” Even Trina was moved, laughing demurely, her + lips closed, putting one hand with its new glove to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The performance went on. Now it was the “musical marvels,” two men + extravagantly made up as negro minstrels, with immense shoes and plaid + vests. They seemed to be able to wrestle a tune out of almost anything—glass + bottles, cigar-box fiddles, strings of sleigh-bells, even graduated brass + tubes, which they rubbed with resined fingers. McTeague was stupefied with + admiration. + </p> + <p> + “That's what you call musicians,” he announced gravely. “'Home, Sweet + Home,' played upon a trombone. Think of that! Art could go no farther.” + </p> + <p> + The acrobats left him breathless. They were dazzling young men with + beautifully parted hair, continually making graceful gestures to the + audience. In one of them the dentist fancied he saw a strong resemblance + to the boy who had tormented the intoxicated lodger and who had turned + such marvellous somersaults. Trina could not bear to watch their antics. + She turned away her head with a little shudder. “It always makes me sick,” + she explained. + </p> + <p> + The beautiful young lady, “The Society Contralto,” in evening dress, who + sang the sentimental songs, and carried the sheets of music at which she + never looked, pleased McTeague less. Trina, however, was captivated. She + grew pensive over + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You do not love me—no; + Bid me good-by and go;” + </pre> + <p> + and split her new gloves in her enthusiasm when it was finished. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you love sad music, Mac?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Then came the two comedians. They talked with fearful rapidity; their wit + and repartee seemed inexhaustible. + </p> + <p> + “As I was going down the street yesterday—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! as YOU were going down the street—all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a girl at a window——” + </p> + <p> + “YOU saw a girl at a window.” + </p> + <p> + “And this girl she was a corker——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! as YOU were going down the street yesterday YOU saw a girl at a + window, and this girl she was a corker. All right, go on.” + </p> + <p> + The other comedian went on. The joke was suddenly evolved. A certain + phrase led to a song, which was sung with lightning rapidity, each + performer making precisely the same gestures at precisely the same + instant. They were irresistible. McTeague, though he caught but a third of + the jokes, could have listened all night. + </p> + <p> + After the comedians had gone out, the iron advertisement curtain was let + down. + </p> + <p> + “What comes now?” said McTeague, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “It's the intermission of fifteen minutes now.” + </p> + <p> + The musicians disappeared through the rabbit hutch, and the audience + stirred and stretched itself. Most of the young men left their seats. + </p> + <p> + During this intermission McTeague and his party had “refreshments.” Mrs. + Sieppe and Trina had Queen Charlottes, McTeague drank a glass of beer, + Owgooste ate the orange and one of the bananas. He begged for a glass of + lemonade, which was finally given him. + </p> + <p> + “Joost to geep um quiet,” observed Mrs. Sieppe. + </p> + <p> + But almost immediately after drinking his lemonade Owgooste was seized + with a sudden restlessness. He twisted and wriggled in his seat, swinging + his legs violently, looking about him with eyes full of a vague distress. + At length, just as the musicians were returning, he stood up and whispered + energetically in his mother's ear. Mrs. Sieppe was exasperated at once. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she cried, reseating him brusquely. + </p> + <p> + The performance was resumed. A lightning artist appeared, drawing + caricatures and portraits with incredible swiftness. He even went so far + as to ask for subjects from the audience, and the names of prominent men + were shouted to him from the gallery. He drew portraits of the President, + of Grant, of Washington, of Napoleon Bonaparte, of Bismarck, of Garibaldi, + of P. T. Barnum. + </p> + <p> + And so the evening passed. The hall grew very hot, and the smoke of + innumerable cigars made the eyes smart. A thick blue mist hung low over + the heads of the audience. The air was full of varied smells—the + smell of stale cigars, of flat beer, of orange peel, of gas, of sachet + powders, and of cheap perfumery. + </p> + <p> + One “artist” after another came upon the stage. McTeague's attention never + wandered for a minute. Trina and her mother enjoyed themselves hugely. At + every moment they made comments to one another, their eyes never leaving + the stage. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't dot fool joost too funny?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a pretty song. Don't you like that kind of a song?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! It's wonderful! Yes, yes, wonderful! That's the word.” + </p> + <p> + Owgooste, however, lost interest. He stood up in his place, his back to + the stage, chewing a piece of orange peel and watching a little girl in + her father's lap across the aisle, his eyes fixed in a glassy, ox-like + stare. But he was uneasy. He danced from one foot to the other, and at + intervals appealed in hoarse whispers to his mother, who disdained an + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ma, say, ma-ah,” he whined, abstractedly chewing his orange peel, staring + at the little girl. + </p> + <p> + “Ma-ah, say, ma.” At times his monotonous plaint reached his mother's + consciousness. She suddenly realized what this was that was annoying her. + </p> + <p> + “Owgooste, will you sit down?” She caught him up all at once, and jammed + him down into his place. “Be quiet, den; loog; listun at der yunge girls.” + </p> + <p> + Three young women and a young man who played a zither occupied the stage. + They were dressed in Tyrolese costume; they were yodlers, and sang in + German about “mountain tops” and “bold hunters” and the like. The yodling + chorus was a marvel of flute-like modulations. The girls were really + pretty, and were not made up in the least. Their “turn” had a great + success. Mrs. Sieppe was entranced. Instantly she remembered her girlhood + and her native Swiss village. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, dot is heavunly; joost like der old country. Mein gran'mutter used + to be one of der mos' famous yodlers. When I was leedle, I haf seen dem + joost like dat.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma-ah,” began Owgooste fretfully, as soon as the yodlers had departed. He + could not keep still an instant; he twisted from side to side, swinging + his legs with incredible swiftness. + </p> + <p> + “Ma-ah, I want to go ho-ome.” + </p> + <p> + “Pehave!” exclaimed his mother, shaking him by the arm; “loog, der leedle + girl is watchun you. Dis is der last dime I take you to der blay, you + see.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't ca-are; I'm sleepy.” At length, to their great relief, he went to + sleep, his head against his mother's arm. + </p> + <p> + The kinetoscope fairly took their breaths away. + </p> + <p> + “What will they do next?” observed Trina, in amazement. “Ain't that + wonderful, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was awe-struck. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that horse move his head,” he cried excitedly, quite carried + away. “Look at that cable car coming—and the man going across the + street. See, here comes a truck. Well, I never in all my life! What would + Marcus say to this?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all a drick!” exclaimed Mrs. Sieppe, with sudden conviction. “I + ain't no fool; dot's nothun but a drick.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, mamma,” exclaimed Trina, “it's——” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Sieppe put her head in the air. + </p> + <p> + “I'm too old to be fooled,” she persisted. “It's a drick.” Nothing more + could be got out of her than this. + </p> + <p> + The party stayed to the very end of the show, though the kinetoscope was + the last number but one on the programme, and fully half the audience left + immediately afterward. However, while the unfortunate Irish comedian went + through his “act” to the backs of the departing people, Mrs. Sieppe woke + Owgooste, very cross and sleepy, and began getting her “things together.” + As soon as he was awake Owgooste began fidgeting again. + </p> + <p> + “Save der brogramme, Trina,” whispered Mrs. Sieppe. “Take ut home to + popper. Where is der hat of Owgooste? Haf you got mein handkerchief, + Trina?” + </p> + <p> + But at this moment a dreadful accident happened to Owgooste; his distress + reached its climax; his fortitude collapsed. What a misery! It was a + veritable catastrophe, deplorable, lamentable, a thing beyond words! For a + moment he gazed wildly about him, helpless and petrified with astonishment + and terror. Then his grief found utterance, and the closing strains of the + orchestra were mingled with a prolonged wail of infinite sadness. + </p> + <p> + “Owgooste, what is ut?” cried his mother eyeing him with dawning + suspicion; then suddenly, “What haf you done? You haf ruin your new + Vauntleroy gostume!” Her face blazed; without more ado she smacked him + soundly. Then it was that Owgooste touched the limit of his misery, his + unhappiness, his horrible discomfort; his utter wretchedness was complete. + He filled the air with his doleful outcries. The more he was smacked and + shaken, the louder he wept. + </p> + <p> + “What—what is the matter?” inquired McTeague. + </p> + <p> + Trina's face was scarlet. “Nothing, nothing,” she exclaimed hastily, + looking away. “Come, we must be going. It's about over.” The end of the + show and the breaking up of the audience tided over the embarrassment of + the moment. + </p> + <p> + The party filed out at the tail end of the audience. Already the lights + were being extinguished and the ushers spreading druggeting over the + upholstered seats. + </p> + <p> + McTeague and the Sieppes took an uptown car that would bring them near + Polk Street. The car was crowded; McTeague and Owgooste were obliged to + stand. The little boy fretted to be taken in his mother's lap, but Mrs. + Sieppe emphatically refused. + </p> + <p> + On their way home they discussed the performance. + </p> + <p> + “I—I like best der yodlers.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the soloist was the best—the lady who sang those sad songs.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't—wasn't that magic lantern wonderful, where the figures + moved? Wonderful—ah, wonderful! And wasn't that first act funny, + where the fellow fell down all the time? And that musical act, and the + fellow with the burnt-cork face who played 'Nearer, My God, to Thee' on + the beer bottles.” + </p> + <p> + They got off at Polk Street and walked up a block to the flat. The street + was dark and empty; opposite the flat, in the back of the deserted market, + the ducks and geese were calling persistently. + </p> + <p> + As they were buying their tamales from the half-breed Mexican at the + street corner, McTeague observed: + </p> + <p> + “Marcus ain't gone to bed yet. See, there's a light in his window. There!” + he exclaimed at once, “I forgot the doorkey. Well, Marcus can let us in.” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he rung the bell at the street door of the flat when the bolt + was shot back. In the hall at the top of the long, narrow staircase there + was the sound of a great scurrying. Maria Macapa stood there, her hand + upon the rope that drew the bolt; Marcus was at her side; Old Grannis was + in the background, looking over their shoulders; while little Miss Baker + leant over the banisters, a strange man in a drab overcoat at her side. As + McTeague's party stepped into the doorway a half-dozen voices cried: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's them.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Miss Sieppe?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your name Trina Sieppe?” + </p> + <p> + Then, shriller than all the rest, Maria Macapa screamed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Sieppe, come up here quick. Your lottery ticket has won five + thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7 + </h2> + <p> + “What nonsense!” answered Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Ach Gott! What is ut?” cried Mrs. Sieppe, misunderstanding, supposing a + calamity. + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what,” stammered the dentist, confused by the + lights, the crowded stairway, the medley of voices. The party reached the + landing. The others surrounded them. Marcus alone seemed to rise to the + occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Le' me be the first to congratulate you,” he cried, catching Trina's + hand. Every one was talking at once. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sieppe, Miss Sieppe, your ticket has won five thousand dollars,” + cried Maria. “Don't you remember the lottery ticket I sold you in Doctor + McTeague's office?” + </p> + <p> + “Trina!” almost screamed her mother. “Five tausend thalers! five tausend + thalers! If popper were only here!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it—what is it?” exclaimed McTeague, rolling his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with it, Trina?” inquired Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “You're a rich woman, my dear,” said Miss Baker, her little false curls + quivering with excitement, “and I'm glad for your sake. Let me kiss you. + To think I was in the room when you bought the ticket!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” interrupted Trina, shaking her head, “there is a mistake. There + must be. Why—why should I win five thousand dollars? It's nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “No mistake, no mistake,” screamed Maria. “Your number was 400,012. Here + it is in the paper this evening. I remember it well, because I keep an + account.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know you're wrong,” answered Trina, beginning to tremble in spite + of herself. “Why should I win?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Why shouldn't you?” cried her mother. + </p> + <p> + In fact, why shouldn't she? The idea suddenly occurred to Trina. After + all, it was not a question of effort or merit on her part. Why should she + suppose a mistake? What if it were true, this wonderful fillip of fortune + striking in there like some chance-driven bolt? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think so?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + The stranger in the drab overcoat came forward. + </p> + <p> + “It's the agent,” cried two or three voices, simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're one of the lucky ones, Miss Sieppe,” he said. “I suppose + you have kept your ticket.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; four three oughts twelve—I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” admitted the other. “Present your ticket at the local + branch office as soon as possible—the address is printed on the back + of the ticket—and you'll receive a check on our bank for five + thousand dollars. Your number will have to be verified on our official + list, but there's hardly a chance of a mistake. I congratulate you.” + </p> + <p> + All at once a great shrill of gladness surged up in Trina. She was to + possess five thousand dollars. She was carried away with the joy of her + good fortune, a natural, spontaneous joy—the gaiety of a child with + a new and wonderful toy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've won, I've won, I've won!” she cried, clapping her hands. “Mamma, + think of it. I've won five thousand dollars, just by buying a ticket. Mac, + what do you say to that? I've got five thousand dollars. August, do you + hear what's happened to sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss your mommer, Trina,” suddenly commanded Mrs. Sieppe. “What efer will + you do mit all dose money, eh, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” exclaimed Marcus. “Get married on it for one thing.” Thereat they + all shouted with laughter. McTeague grinned, and looked about sheepishly. + “Talk about luck,” muttered Marcus, shaking his head at the dentist; then + suddenly he added: + </p> + <p> + “Well, are we going to stay talking out here in the hall all night? Can't + we all come into your 'Parlors', Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” exclaimed McTeague, hastily unlocking his door. + </p> + <p> + “Efery botty gome,” cried Mrs. Sieppe, genially. “Ain't ut so, Doktor?” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody,” repeated the dentist. “There's—there's some beer.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll celebrate, by damn!” exclaimed Marcus. “It ain't every day you win + five thousand dollars. It's only Sundays and legal holidays.” Again he set + the company off into a gale of laughter. Anything was funny at a time like + this. In some way every one of them felt elated. The wheel of fortune had + come spinning close to them. They were near to this great sum of money. It + was as though they too had won. + </p> + <p> + “Here's right where I sat when I bought that ticket,” cried Trina, after + they had come into the “Parlors,” and Marcus had lit the gas. “Right here + in this chair.” She sat down in one of the rigid chairs under the steel + engraving. “And, Marcus, you sat here——” + </p> + <p> + “And I was just getting out of the operating chair,” interposed Miss + Baker. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. That's so; and you,” continued Trina, pointing to Maria, “came + up and said, 'Buy a ticket in the lottery; just a dollar.' Oh, I remember + it just as plain as though it was yesterday, and I wasn't going to at + first——” + </p> + <p> + “And don't you know I told Maria it was against the law?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember, and then I gave her a dollar and put the ticket in my + pocketbook. It's in my pocketbook now at home in the top drawer of my + bureau—oh, suppose it should be stolen now,” she suddenly exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “It's worth big money now,” asserted Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand dollars. Who would have thought it? It's wonderful.” + Everybody started and turned. It was McTeague. He stood in the middle of + the floor, wagging his huge head. He seemed to have just realized what had + happened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, five thousand dollars!” exclaimed Marcus, with a sudden + unaccountable mirthlessness. “Five thousand dollars! Do you get on to + that? Cousin Trina and you will be rich people.” + </p> + <p> + “At six per cent, that's twenty-five dollars a month,” hazarded the agent. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it. Think of it,” muttered McTeague. He went aimlessly about the + room, his eyes wide, his enormous hands dangling. + </p> + <p> + “A cousin of mine won forty dollars once,” observed Miss Baker. “But he + spent every cent of it buying more tickets, and never won anything.” + </p> + <p> + Then the reminiscences began. Maria told about the butcher on the next + block who had won twenty dollars the last drawing. Mrs. Sieppe knew a + gasfitter in Oakland who had won several times; once a hundred dollars. + Little Miss Baker announced that she had always believed that lotteries + were wrong; but, just the same, five thousand was five thousand. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right when you win, ain't it, Miss Baker?” observed Marcus, with + a certain sarcasm. What was the matter with Marcus? At moments he seemed + singularly out of temper. + </p> + <p> + But the agent was full of stories. He told his experiences, the legends + and myths that had grown up around the history of the lottery; he told of + the poor newsboy with a dying mother to support who had drawn a prize of + fifteen thousand; of the man who was driven to suicide through want, but + who held (had he but known it) the number that two days after his death + drew the capital prize of thirty thousand dollars; of the little milliner + who for ten years had played the lottery without success, and who had one + day declared that she would buy but one more ticket and then give up + trying, and of how this last ticket had brought her a fortune upon which + she could retire; of tickets that had been lost or destroyed, and whose + numbers had won fabulous sums at the drawing; of criminals, driven to vice + by poverty, and who had reformed after winning competencies; of gamblers + who played the lottery as they would play a faro bank, turning in their + winnings again as soon as made, buying thousands of tickets all over the + country; of superstitions as to terminal and initial numbers, and as to + lucky days of purchase; of marvellous coincidences—three capital + prizes drawn consecutively by the same town; a ticket bought by a + millionaire and given to his boot-black, who won a thousand dollars upon + it; the same number winning the same amount an indefinite number of times; + and so on to infinity. Invariably it was the needy who won, the destitute + and starving woke to wealth and plenty, the virtuous toiler suddenly found + his reward in a ticket bought at a hazard; the lottery was a great + charity, the friend of the people, a vast beneficent machine that + recognized neither rank nor wealth nor station. + </p> + <p> + The company began to be very gay. Chairs and tables were brought in from + the adjoining rooms, and Maria was sent out for more beer and tamales, and + also commissioned to buy a bottle of wine and some cake for Miss Baker, + who abhorred beer. + </p> + <p> + The “Dental Parlors” were in great confusion. Empty beer bottles stood on + the movable rack where the instruments were kept; plates and napkins were + upon the seat of the operating chair and upon the stand of shelves in the + corner, side by side with the concertina and the volumes of “Allen's + Practical Dentist.” The canary woke and chittered crossly, his feathers + puffed out; the husks of tamales littered the floor; the stone pug dog + sitting before the little stove stared at the unusual scene, his glass + eyes starting from their sockets. + </p> + <p> + They drank and feasted in impromptu fashion. Marcus Schouler assumed the + office of master of ceremonies; he was in a lather of excitement, rushing + about here and there, opening beer bottles, serving the tamales, slapping + McTeague upon the back, laughing and joking continually. He made McTeague + sit at the head of the table, with Trina at his right and the agent at his + left; he—when he sat down at all—occupied the foot, Maria + Macapa at his left, while next to her was Mrs. Sieppe, opposite Miss + Baker. Owgooste had been put to bed upon the bed-lounge. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Old Grannis?” suddenly exclaimed Marcus. Sure enough, where had + the old Englishman gone? He had been there at first. + </p> + <p> + “I called him down with everybody else,” cried Maria Macapa, “as soon as I + saw in the paper that Miss Sieppe had won. We all came down to Mr. + Schouler's room and waited for you to come home. I think he must have gone + back to his room. I'll bet you'll find him sewing up his books.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” observed Miss Baker, “not at this hour.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently the timid old gentleman had taken advantage of the confusion to + slip unobtrusively away. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go bring him down,” shouted Marcus; “he's got to join us.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Baker was in great agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I—I hardly think you'd better,” she murmured; “he—he—I + don't think he drinks beer.” + </p> + <p> + “He takes his amusement in sewin' up books,” cried Maria. + </p> + <p> + Marcus brought him down, nevertheless, having found him just preparing for + bed. + </p> + <p> + “I—I must apologize,” stammered Old Grannis, as he stood in the + doorway. “I had not quite expected—I—find—find myself a + little unprepared.” He was without collar and cravat, owing to Marcus + Schouler's precipitate haste. He was annoyed beyond words that Miss Baker + saw him thus. Could anything be more embarrassing? + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis was introduced to Mrs. Sieppe and to Trina as Marcus's + employer. They shook hands solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that he an' Miss Baker have ever been introduced,” cried + Maria Macapa, shrilly, “an' they've been livin' side by side for years.” + </p> + <p> + The two old people were speechless, avoiding each other's gaze. It had + come at last; they were to know each other, to talk together, to touch + each other's hands. + </p> + <p> + Marcus brought Old Grannis around the table to little Miss Baker, dragging + him by the coat sleeve, exclaiming: “Well, I thought you two people knew + each other long ago. Miss Baker, this is Mr. Grannis; Mr. Grannis, this is + Miss Baker.” Neither spoke. Like two little children they faced each + other, awkward, constrained, tongue-tied with embarrassment. Then Miss + Baker put out her hand shyly. Old Grannis touched it for an instant and + let it fall. + </p> + <p> + “Now you know each other,” cried Marcus, “and it's about time.” For the + first time their eyes met; Old Grannis trembled a little, putting his hand + uncertainly to his chin. Miss Baker flushed ever so slightly, but Maria + Macapa passed suddenly between them, carrying a half empty beer bottle. + The two old people fell back from one another, Miss Baker resuming her + seat. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a place for you over here, Mr. Grannis,” cried Marcus, making room + for him at his side. Old Grannis slipped into the chair, withdrawing at + once from the company's notice. He stared fixedly at his plate and did not + speak again. Old Miss Baker began to talk volubly across the table to Mrs. + Sieppe about hot-house flowers and medicated flannels. + </p> + <p> + It was in the midst of this little impromptu supper that the engagement of + Trina and the dentist was announced. In a pause in the chatter of + conversation Mrs. Sieppe leaned forward and, speaking to the agent, said: + </p> + <p> + “Vell, you know also my daughter Trina get married bretty soon. She and + der dentist, Doktor McTeague, eh, yes?” + </p> + <p> + There was a general exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so all along,” cried Miss Baker, excitedly. “The first time I + saw them together I said, 'What a pair!'” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful!” exclaimed the agent, “to be married and win a snug little + fortune at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + “So—So,” murmured Old Grannis, nodding at his plate. + </p> + <p> + “Good luck to you,” cried Maria. + </p> + <p> + “He's lucky enough already,” growled Marcus under his breath, relapsing + for a moment into one of those strange moods of sullenness which had + marked him throughout the evening. + </p> + <p> + Trina flushed crimson, drawing shyly nearer her mother. McTeague grinned + from ear to ear, looking around from one to another, exclaiming “Huh! + Huh!” + </p> + <p> + But the agent rose to his feet, a newly filled beer glass in his hand. He + was a man of the world, this agent. He knew life. He was suave and easy. A + diamond was on his little finger. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. There was an instant silence. “This is + indeed a happy occasion. I—I am glad to be here to-night; to be a + witness to such good fortune; to partake in these—in this + celebration. Why, I feel almost as glad as if I had held four three oughts + twelve myself; as if the five thousand were mine instead of belonging to + our charming hostess. The good wishes of my humble self go out to Miss + Sieppe in this moment of her good fortune, and I think—in fact, I am + sure I can speak for the great institution, the great company I represent. + The company congratulates Miss Sieppe. We—they—ah—They + wish her every happiness her new fortune can procure her. It has been my + duty, my—ah—cheerful duty to call upon the winners of large + prizes and to offer the felicitation of the company. I have, in my + experience, called upon many such; but never have I seen fortune so + happily bestowed as in this case. The company have dowered the prospective + bride. I am sure I but echo the sentiments of this assembly when I wish + all joy and happiness to this happy pair, happy in the possession of a + snug little fortune, and happy—happy in—” he finished with a + sudden inspiration—“in the possession of each other; I drink to the + health, wealth, and happiness of the future bride and groom. Let us drink + standing up.” They drank with enthusiasm. Marcus was carried away with the + excitement of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Outa sight, outa sight,” he vociferated, clapping his hands. “Very well + said. To the health of the bride. McTeague, McTeague, speech, speech!” + </p> + <p> + In an instant the whole table was clamoring for the dentist to speak. + McTeague was terrified; he gripped the table with both hands, looking + wildly about him. + </p> + <p> + “Speech, speech!” shouted Marcus, running around the table and endeavoring + to drag McTeague up. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—no,” muttered the other. “No speech.” The company + rattled upon the table with their beer glasses, insisting upon a speech. + McTeague settled obstinately into his chair, very red in the face, shaking + his head energetically. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, go on!” he exclaimed; “no speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, get up and say somethun, anyhow,” persisted Marcus; “you ought to do + it. It's the proper caper.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague heaved himself up; there was a burst of applause; he looked + slowly about him, then suddenly sat down again, shaking his head + hopelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go on, Mac,” cried Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, say somethun, anyhow,” cried Marcus, tugging at his arm; “you GOT + to.” + </p> + <p> + Once more McTeague rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” he exclaimed, looking steadily at the table. Then he began: + </p> + <p> + “I don' know what to say—I—I—I ain't never made a speech + before; I—I ain't never made a speech before. But I'm glad Trina's + won the prize—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll bet you are,” muttered Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I'm glad Trina's won, and I—I want to—I want + to—I want to—want to say that—you're—all—welcome, + an' drink hearty, an' I'm much obliged to the agent. Trina and I are goin' + to be married, an' I'm glad everybody's here to-night, an' you're—all—welcome, + an' drink hearty, an' I hope you'll come again, an' you're always welcome—an'—I—an'—an'—That's—about—all—I—gotta + say.” He sat down, wiping his forehead, amidst tremendous applause. + </p> + <p> + Soon after that the company pushed back from the table and relaxed into + couples and groups. The men, with the exception of Old Grannis, began to + smoke, the smell of their tobacco mingling with the odors of ether, + creosote, and stale bedding, which pervaded the “Parlors.” Soon the + windows had to be lowered from the top. Mrs. Sieppe and old Miss Baker sat + together in the bay window exchanging confidences. Miss Baker had turned + back the overskirt of her dress; a plate of cake was in her lap; from time + to time she sipped her wine with the delicacy of a white cat. The two + women were much interested in each other. Miss Baker told Mrs. Sieppe all + about Old Grannis, not forgetting the fiction of the title and the unjust + stepfather. + </p> + <p> + “He's quite a personage really,” said Miss Baker. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sieppe led the conversation around to her children. “Ach, Trina is + sudge a goote girl,” she said; “always gay, yes, und sing from morgen to + night. Und Owgooste, he is soh smart also, yes, eh? He has der genius for + machines, always making somethun mit wheels und sbrings.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if—if—I had children,” murmured the little old maid a + trifle wistfully, “one would have been a sailor; he would have begun as a + midshipman on my brother's ship; in time he would have been an officer. + The other would have been a landscape gardener.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac!” exclaimed Trina, looking up into the dentist's face, “think of + all this money coming to us just at this very moment. Isn't it wonderful? + Don't it kind of scare you?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful, wonderful!” muttered McTeague, shaking his head. “Let's buy a + lot of tickets,” he added, struck with an idea. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's how you can always tell a good cigar,” observed the agent to + Marcus as the two sat smoking at the end of the table. “The light end + should be rolled to a point.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the Chinese cigar-makers,” cried Marcus, in a passion, brandishing + his fist. “It's them as is ruining the cause of white labor. They are, + they are for a FACT. Ah, the rat-eaters! Ah, the white-livered curs!” + </p> + <p> + Over in the corner, by the stand of shelves, Old Grannis was listening to + Maria Macapa. The Mexican woman had been violently stirred over Trina's + sudden wealth; Maria's mind had gone back to her younger days. She leaned + forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, her eyes wide and + fixed. Old Grannis listened to her attentively. + </p> + <p> + “There wa'n't a piece that was so much as scratched,” Maria was saying. + “Every piece was just like a mirror, smooth and bright; oh, bright as a + little sun. Such a service as that was—platters and soup tureens and + an immense big punchbowl. Five thousand dollars, what does that amount to? + Why, that punch-bowl alone was worth a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “What a wonderful story!” exclaimed Old Grannis, never for an instant + doubting its truth. “And it's all lost now, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Lost, lost,” repeated Maria. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut! What a pity! What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the agent rose and broke out with: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must be going, if I'm to get any car.” + </p> + <p> + He shook hands with everybody, offered a parting cigar to Marcus, + congratulated McTeague and Trina a last time, and bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + “What an elegant gentleman,” commented Miss Baker. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Marcus, nodding his head, “there's a man of the world for you. + Right on to himself, by damn!” + </p> + <p> + The company broke up. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Mac,” cried Marcus; “we're to sleep with the dogs to-night, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + The two friends said “Good-night” all around and departed for the little + dog hospital. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis hurried to his room furtively, terrified lest he should again + be brought face to face with Miss Baker. He bolted himself in and listened + until he heard her foot in the hall and the soft closing of her door. She + was there close beside him; as one might say, in the same room; for he, + too, had made the discovery as to the similarity of the wallpaper. At long + intervals he could hear a faint rustling as she moved about. What an + evening that had been for him! He had met her, had spoken to her, had + touched her hand; he was in a tremor of excitement. In a like manner the + little old dressmaker listened and quivered. HE was there in that same + room which they shared in common, separated only by the thinnest board + partition. He was thinking of her, she was almost sure of it. They were + strangers no longer; they were acquaintances, friends. What an event that + evening had been in their lives! + </p> + <p> + Late as it was, Miss Baker brewed a cup of tea and sat down in her rocking + chair close to the partition; she rocked gently, sipping her tea, calming + herself after the emotions of that wonderful evening. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis heard the clinking of the tea things and smelt the faint odor + of the tea. It seemed to him a signal, an invitation. He drew his chair + close to his side of the partition, before his work-table. A pile of + half-bound “Nations” was in the little binding apparatus; he threaded his + huge upholsterer's needle with stout twine and set to work. + </p> + <p> + It was their tete-a-tete. Instinctively they felt each other's presence, + felt each other's thought coming to them through the thin partition. It + was charming; they were perfectly happy. There in the stillness that + settled over the flat in the half hour after midnight the two old people + “kept company,” enjoying after their fashion their little romance that had + come so late into the lives of each. + </p> + <p> + On the way to her room in the garret Maria Macapa paused under the single + gas-jet that burned at the top of the well of the staircase; she assured + herself that she was alone, and then drew from her pocket one of + McTeague's “tapes” of non-cohesive gold. It was the most valuable steal + she had ever yet made in the dentist's “Parlors.” She told herself that it + was worth at least a couple of dollars. Suddenly an idea occurred to her, + and she went hastily to a window at the end of the hall, and, shading her + face with both hands, looked down into the little alley just back of the + flat. On some nights Zerkow, the red-headed Polish Jew, sat up late, + taking account of the week's ragpicking. There was a dim light in his + window now. + </p> + <p> + Maria went to her room, threw a shawl around her head, and descended into + the little back yard of the flat by the back stairs. As she let herself + out of the back gate into the alley, Alexander, Marcus's Irish setter, + woke suddenly with a gruff bark. The collie who lived on the other side of + the fence, in the back yard of the branch post-office, answered with a + snarl. Then in an instant the endless feud between the two dogs was + resumed. They dragged their respective kennels to the fence, and through + the cracks raged at each other in a frenzy of hate; their teeth snapped + and gleamed; the hackles on their backs rose and stiffened. Their hideous + clamor could have been heard for blocks around. What a massacre should the + two ever meet! + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Maria was knocking at Zerkow's miserable hovel. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it? Who is it?” cried the rag-picker from within, in his hoarse + voice, that was half whisper, starting nervously, and sweeping a handful + of silver into his drawer. + </p> + <p> + “It's me, Maria Macapa;” then in a lower voice, and as if speaking to + herself, “had a flying squirrel an' let him go.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Maria,” cried Zerkow, obsequiously opening the door. “Come in, come + in, my girl; you're always welcome, even as late as this. No junk, hey? + But you're welcome for all that. You'll have a drink, won't you?” He led + her into his back room and got down the whiskey bottle and the broken red + tumbler. + </p> + <p> + After the two had drunk together Maria produced the gold “tape.” Zerkow's + eyes glittered on the instant. The sight of gold invariably sent a qualm + all through him; try as he would, he could not repress it. His fingers + trembled and clawed at his mouth; his breath grew short. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah, ah!” he exclaimed, “give it here, give it here; give it to me, + Maria. That's a good girl, come give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + They haggled as usual over the price, but to-night Maria was too excited + over other matters to spend much time in bickering over a few cents. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Zerkow,” she said as soon as the transfer was made, “I got + something to tell you. A little while ago I sold a lottery ticket to a + girl at the flat; the drawing was in this evening's papers. How much do + you suppose that girl has won?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. How much? How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + It was as though a knife had been run through the Jew; a spasm of an + almost physical pain twisted his face—his entire body. He raised his + clenched fists into the air, his eyes shut, his teeth gnawing his lip. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand dollars,” he whispered; “five thousand dollars. For what? + For nothing, for simply buying a ticket; and I have worked so hard for it, + so hard, so hard. Five thousand dollars, five thousand dollars. Oh, why + couldn't it have come to me?” he cried, his voice choking, the tears + starting to his eyes; “why couldn't it have come to me? To come so close, + so close, and yet to miss me—me who have worked for it, fought for + it, starved for it, am dying for it every day. Think of it, Maria, five + thousand dollars, all bright, heavy pieces——” + </p> + <p> + “Bright as a sunset,” interrupted Maria, her chin propped on her hands. + “Such a glory, and heavy. Yes, every piece was heavy, and it was all you + could do to lift the punch-bowl. Why, that punch-bowl was worth a fortune + alone——” + </p> + <p> + “And it rang when you hit it with your knuckles, didn't it?” prompted + Zerkow, eagerly, his lips trembling, his fingers hooking themselves into + claws. + </p> + <p> + “Sweeter'n any church bell,” continued Maria. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on, go on,” cried Zerkow, drawing his chair closer, and + shutting his eyes in ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “There were more than a hundred pieces, and every one of them gold——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, every one of them gold.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have seen the sight when the leather trunk was opened. There + wa'n't a piece that was so much as scratched; every one was like a mirror, + smooth and bright, polished so that it looked black—you know how I + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know, I know,” cried Zerkow, moistening his lips. + </p> + <p> + Then he plied her with questions—questions that covered every detail + of that service of plate. It was soft, wasn't it? You could bite into a + plate and leave a dent? The handles of the knives, now, were they gold, + too? All the knife was made from one piece of gold, was it? And the forks + the same? The interior of the trunk was quilted, of course? Did Maria ever + polish the plates herself? When the company ate off this service, it must + have made a fine noise—these gold knives and forks clinking together + upon these gold plates. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let's have it all over again, Maria,” pleaded Zerkow. “Begin now + with 'There were more than a hundred pieces, and every one of them gold.' + Go on, begin, begin, begin!” + </p> + <p> + The red-headed Pole was in a fever of excitement. Maria's recital had + become a veritable mania with him. As he listened, with closed eyes and + trembling lips, he fancied he could see that wonderful plate before him, + there on the table, under his eyes, under his hand, ponderous, massive, + gleaming. He tormented Maria into a second repetition of the story—into + a third. The more his mind dwelt upon it, the sharper grew his desire. + Then, with Maria's refusal to continue the tale, came the reaction. Zerkow + awoke as from some ravishing dream. The plate was gone, was irretrievably + lost. There was nothing in that miserable room but grimy rags and + rust-corroded iron. What torment! what agony! to be so near—so near, + to see it in one's distorted fancy as plain as in a mirror. To know every + individual piece as an old friend; to feel its weight; to be dazzled by + its glitter; to call it one's own, own; to have it to oneself, hugged to + the breast; and then to start, to wake, to come down to the horrible + reality. + </p> + <p> + “And you, YOU had it once,” gasped Zerkow, clawing at her arm; “you had it + once, all your own. Think of it, and now it's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone for good and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it's buried near your old place somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It's gone—gone—gone,” chanted Maria in a monotone. + </p> + <p> + Zerkow dug his nails into his scalp, tearing at his red hair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, it's gone, it's gone—lost forever! Lost forever!” + </p> + <p> + Marcus and the dentist walked up the silent street and reached the little + dog hospital. They had hardly spoken on the way. McTeague's brain was in a + whirl; speech failed him. He was busy thinking of the great thing that had + happened that night, and was trying to realize what its effect would be + upon his life—his life and Trina's. As soon as they had found + themselves in the street, Marcus had relapsed at once to a sullen silence, + which McTeague was too abstracted to notice. + </p> + <p> + They entered the tiny office of the hospital with its red carpet, its gas + stove, and its colored prints of famous dogs hanging against the walls. In + one corner stood the iron bed which they were to occupy. + </p> + <p> + “You go on an' get to bed, Mac,” observed Marcus. “I'll take a look at the + dogs before I turn in.” + </p> + <p> + He went outside and passed along into the yard, that was bounded on three + sides by pens where the dogs were kept. A bull terrier dying of gastritis + recognized him and began to whimper feebly. + </p> + <p> + Marcus paid no attention to the dogs. For the first time that evening he + was alone and could give vent to his thoughts. He took a couple of turns + up and down the yard, then suddenly in a low voice exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You fool, you fool, Marcus Schouler! If you'd kept Trina you'd have had + that money. You might have had it yourself. You've thrown away your chance + in life—to give up the girl, yes—but this,” he stamped his + foot with rage—“to throw five thousand dollars out of the window—to + stuff it into the pockets of someone else, when it might have been yours, + when you might have had Trina AND the money—and all for what? + Because we were pals. Oh, 'pals' is all right—but five thousand + dollars—to have played it right into his hands—God DAMN the + luck!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8 + </h2> + <p> + The next two months were delightful. Trina and McTeague saw each other + regularly, three times a week. The dentist went over to B Street Sunday + and Wednesday afternoons as usual; but on Fridays it was Trina who came to + the city. She spent the morning between nine and twelve o'clock down town, + for the most part in the cheap department stores, doing the weekly + shopping for herself and the family. At noon she took an uptown car and + met McTeague at the corner of Polk Street. The two lunched together at a + small uptown hotel just around the corner on Sutter Street. They were + given a little room to themselves. Nothing could have been more delicious. + They had but to close the sliding door to shut themselves off from the + whole world. + </p> + <p> + Trina would arrive breathless from her raids upon the bargain counters, + her pale cheeks flushed, her hair blown about her face and into the + corners of her lips, her mother's net reticule stuffed to bursting. Once + in their tiny private room, she would drop into her chair with a little + groan. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, MAC, I am so tired; I've just been all OVER town. Oh, it's good to + sit down. Just think, I had to stand up in the car all the way, after + being on my feet the whole blessed morning. Look here what I've bought. + Just things and things. Look, there's some dotted veiling I got for + myself; see now, do you think it looks pretty?”—she spread it over + her face—“and I got a box of writing paper, and a roll of crepe + paper to make a lamp shade for the front parlor; and—what do you + suppose—I saw a pair of Nottingham lace curtains for FORTY-NINE + CENTS; isn't that cheap? and some chenille portieres for two and a half. + Now what have YOU been doing since I last saw you? Did Mr. Heise finally + get up enough courage to have his tooth pulled yet?” Trina took off her + hat and veil and rearranged her hair before the looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—not yet. I went down to the sign painter's yesterday + afternoon to see about that big gold tooth for a sign. It costs too much; + I can't get it yet a while. There's two kinds, one German gilt and the + other French gilt; but the German gilt is no good.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague sighed, and wagged his head. Even Trina and the five thousand + dollars could not make him forget this one unsatisfied longing. + </p> + <p> + At other times they would talk at length over their plans, while Trina + sipped her chocolate and McTeague devoured huge chunks of butterless + bread. They were to be married at the end of May, and the dentist already + had his eye on a couple of rooms, part of the suite of a bankrupt + photographer. They were situated in the flat, just back of his “Parlors,” + and he believed the photographer would sublet them furnished. + </p> + <p> + McTeague and Trina had no apprehensions as to their finances. They could + be sure, in fact, of a tidy little income. The dentist's practice was + fairly good, and they could count upon the interest of Trina's five + thousand dollars. To McTeague's mind this interest seemed woefully small. + He had had uncertain ideas about that five thousand dollars; had imagined + that they would spend it in some lavish fashion; would buy a house, + perhaps, or would furnish their new rooms with overwhelming luxury—luxury + that implied red velvet carpets and continued feasting. The oldtime + miner's idea of wealth easily gained and quickly spent persisted in his + mind. But when Trina had begun to talk of investments and interests and + per cents, he was troubled and not a little disappointed. The lump sum of + five thousand dollars was one thing, a miserable little twenty or + twenty-five a month was quite another; and then someone else had the + money. + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see, Mac,” explained Trina, “it's ours just the same. We + could get it back whenever we wanted it; and then it's the reasonable way + to do. We mustn't let it turn our heads, Mac, dear, like that man that + spent all he won in buying more tickets. How foolish we'd feel after we'd + spent it all! We ought to go on just the same as before; as if we hadn't + won. We must be sensible about it, mustn't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, I guess perhaps that's right,” the dentist would answer, + looking slowly about on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Just what should ultimately be done with the money was the subject of + endless discussion in the Sieppe family. The savings bank would allow only + three per cent., but Trina's parents believed that something better could + be got. + </p> + <p> + “There's Uncle Oelbermann,” Trina had suggested, remembering the rich + relative who had the wholesale toy store in the Mission. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sieppe struck his hand to his forehead. “Ah, an idea,” he cried. In + the end an agreement was made. The money was invested in Mr. Oelbermann's + business. He gave Trina six per cent. + </p> + <p> + Invested in this fashion, Trina's winning would bring in twenty-five + dollars a month. But, besides this, Trina had her own little trade. She + made Noah's ark animals for Uncle Oelbermann's store. Trina's ancestors on + both sides were German-Swiss, and some long-forgotten forefather of the + sixteenth century, some worsted-leggined wood-carver of the Tyrol, had + handed down the talent of the national industry, to reappear in this + strangely distorted guise. + </p> + <p> + She made Noah's ark animals, whittling them out of a block of soft wood + with a sharp jack-knife, the only instrument she used. Trina was very + proud to explain her work to McTeague as he had already explained his own + to her. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I take a block of straight-grained pine and cut out the shape, + roughly at first, with the big blade; then I go over it a second time with + the little blade, more carefully; then I put in the ears and tail with a + drop of glue, and paint it with a 'non-poisonous' paint—Vandyke + brown for the horses, foxes, and cows; slate gray for the elephants and + camels; burnt umber for the chickens, zebras, and so on; then, last, a dot + of Chinese white for the eyes, and there you are, all finished. They sell + for nine cents a dozen. Only I can't make the manikins.” + </p> + <p> + “The manikins?” + </p> + <p> + “The little figures, you know—Noah and his wife, and Shem, and all + the others.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Trina could not whittle them fast enough and cheap enough to + compete with the turning lathe, that could throw off whole tribes and + peoples of manikins while she was fashioning one family. Everything else, + however, she made—the ark itself, all windows and no door; the box + in which the whole was packed; even down to pasting on the label, which + read, “Made in France.” She earned from three to four dollars a week. + </p> + <p> + The income from these three sources, McTeague's profession, the interest + of the five thousand dollars, and Trina's whittling, made a respectable + little sum taken altogether. Trina declared they could even lay by + something, adding to the five thousand dollars little by little. + </p> + <p> + It soon became apparent that Trina would be an extraordinarily good + housekeeper. Economy was her strong point. A good deal of peasant blood + still ran undiluted in her veins, and she had all the instinct of a hardy + and penurious mountain race—the instinct which saves without any + thought, without idea of consequence—saving for the sake of saving, + hoarding without knowing why. Even McTeague did not know how closely Trina + held to her new-found wealth. + </p> + <p> + But they did not always pass their luncheon hour in this discussion of + incomes and economies. As the dentist came to know his little woman better + she grew to be more and more of a puzzle and a joy to him. She would + suddenly interrupt a grave discourse upon the rents of rooms and the cost + of light and fuel with a brusque outburst of affection that set him all + a-tremble with delight. All at once she would set down her chocolate, and, + leaning across the narrow table, would exclaim: + </p> + <p> + “Never mind all that! Oh, Mac, do you truly, really love me—love me + BIG?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague would stammer something, gasping, and wagging his head, beside + himself for the lack of words. + </p> + <p> + “Old bear,” Trina would answer, grasping him by both huge ears and swaying + his head from side to side. “Kiss me, then. Tell me, Mac, did you think + any less of me that first time I let you kiss me there in the station? Oh, + Mac, dear, what a funny nose you've got, all full of hairs inside; and, + Mac, do you know you've got a bald spot—” she dragged his head down + towards her—“right on the top of your head.” Then she would + seriously kiss the bald spot in question, declaring: + </p> + <p> + “That'll make the hair grow.” + </p> + <p> + Trina took an infinite enjoyment in playing with McTeague's great + square-cut head, rumpling his hair till it stood on end, putting her + fingers in his eyes, or stretching his ears out straight, and watching the + effect with her head on one side. It was like a little child playing with + some gigantic, good-natured Saint Bernard. + </p> + <p> + One particular amusement they never wearied of. The two would lean across + the table towards each other, McTeague folding his arms under his breast. + Then Trina, resting on her elbows, would part his mustache-the great blond + mustache of a viking—with her two hands, pushing it up from his + lips, causing his face to assume the appearance of a Greek mask. She would + curl it around either forefinger, drawing it to a fine end. Then all at + once McTeague would make a fearful snorting noise through his nose. + Invariably—though she was expecting this, though it was part of the + game—Trina would jump with a stifled shriek. McTeague would bellow + with laughter till his eyes watered. Then they would recommence upon the + instant, Trina protesting with a nervous tremulousness: + </p> + <p> + “Now—now—now, Mac, DON'T; you SCARE me so.” + </p> + <p> + But these delicious tete-a-tetes with Trina were offset by a certain + coolness that Marcus Schouler began to affect towards the dentist. At + first McTeague was unaware of it; but by this time even his slow wits + began to perceive that his best friend—his “pal”—was not the + same to him as formerly. They continued to meet at lunch nearly every day + but Friday at the car conductors' coffee-joint. But Marcus was sulky; + there could be no doubt about that. He avoided talking to McTeague, read + the paper continually, answering the dentist's timid efforts at + conversation in gruff monosyllables. Sometimes, even, he turned sideways + to the table and talked at great length to Heise the harness-maker, whose + table was next to theirs. They took no more long walks together when + Marcus went out to exercise the dogs. Nor did Marcus ever again recur to + his generosity in renouncing Trina. + </p> + <p> + One Tuesday, as McTeague took his place at the table in the coffee-joint, + he found Marcus already there. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Mark,” said the dentist, “you here already?” + </p> + <p> + “Hello,” returned the other, indifferently, helping himself to tomato + catsup. There was a silence. After a long while Marcus suddenly looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac,” he exclaimed, “when you going to pay me that money you owe + me?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What? I don't—do I owe you any money, Mark?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you owe me four bits,” returned Marcus, doggedly. “I paid for you + and Trina that day at the picnic, and you never gave it back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh!” answered McTeague, in distress. “That's so, that's so. I—you + ought to have told me before. Here's your money, and I'm obliged to you.” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't much,” observed Marcus, sullenly. “But I need all I can get + now-a-days.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you—are you broke?” inquired McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “And I ain't saying anything about your sleeping at the hospital that + night, either,” muttered Marcus, as he pocketed the coin. + </p> + <p> + “Well—well—do you mean—should I have paid for that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'd 'a' had to sleep SOMEWHERES, wouldn't you?” flashed out + Marcus. “You 'a' had to pay half a dollar for a bed at the flat.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right,” cried the dentist, hastily, feeling in his + pockets. “I don't want you should be out anything on my account, old man. + Here, will four bits do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't WANT your damn money,” shouted Marcus in a sudden rage, throwing + back the coin. “I ain't no beggar.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was miserable. How had he offended his pal? + </p> + <p> + “Well, I want you should take it, Mark,” he said, pushing it towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I won't touch your money,” exclaimed the other through his + clenched teeth, white with passion. “I've been played for a sucker long + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you lately, Mark?” remonstrated McTeague. “You've + got a grouch about something. Is there anything I've done?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all right, that's all right,” returned Marcus as he rose + from the table. “That's all right. I've been played for a sucker long + enough, that's all. I've been played for a sucker long enough.” He went + away with a parting malevolent glance. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of Polk Street, between the flat and the car conductors' + coffee-joint, was Frenna's. It was a corner grocery; advertisements for + cheap butter and eggs, painted in green marking-ink upon wrapping paper, + stood about on the sidewalk outside. The doorway was decorated with a huge + Milwaukee beer sign. Back of the store proper was a bar where white sand + covered the floor. A few tables and chairs were scattered here and there. + The walls were hung with gorgeously-colored tobacco advertisements and + colored lithographs of trotting horses. On the wall behind the bar was a + model of a full-rigged ship enclosed in a bottle. + </p> + <p> + It was at this place that the dentist used to leave his pitcher to be + filled on Sunday afternoons. Since his engagement to Trina he had + discontinued this habit. However, he still dropped into Frenna's one or + two nights in the week. He spent a pleasant hour there, smoking his huge + porcelain pipe and drinking his beer. He never joined any of the groups of + piquet players around the tables. In fact, he hardly spoke to anyone but + the bartender and Marcus. + </p> + <p> + For Frenna's was one of Marcus Schouler's haunts; a great deal of his time + was spent there. He involved himself in fearful political and social + discussions with Heise the harness-maker, and with one or two old German, + habitues of the place. These discussions Marcus carried on, as was his + custom, at the top of his voice, gesticulating fiercely, banging the table + with his fists, brandishing the plates and glasses, exciting himself with + his own clamor. + </p> + <p> + On a certain Saturday evening, a few days after the scene at the + coffee-joint, the dentist bethought him to spend a quiet evening at + Frenna's. He had not been there for some time, and, besides that, it + occurred to him that the day was his birthday. He would permit himself an + extra pipe and a few glasses of beer. When McTeague entered Frenna's back + room by the street door, he found Marcus and Heise already installed at + one of the tables. Two or three of the old Germans sat opposite them, + gulping their beer from time to time. Heise was smoking a cigar, but + Marcus had before him his fourth whiskey cocktail. At the moment of + McTeague's entrance Marcus had the floor. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be proven,” he was yelling. “I defy any sane politician whose + eyes are not blinded by party prejudices, whose opinions are not warped by + a personal bias, to substantiate such a statement. Look at your facts, + look at your figures. I am a free American citizen, ain't I? I pay my + taxes to support a good government, don't I? It's a contract between me + and the government, ain't it? Well, then, by damn! if the authorities do + not or will not afford me protection for life, liberty, and the pursuit of + happiness, then my obligations are at an end; I withhold my taxes. I do—I + do—I say I do. What?” He glared about him, seeking opposition. + </p> + <p> + “That's nonsense,” observed Heise, quietly. “Try it once; you'll get + jugged.” But this observation of the harness-maker's roused Marcus to the + last pitch of frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ah, yes!” he shouted, rising to his feet, shaking his finger in the + other's face. “Yes, I'd go to jail; but because I—I am crushed by a + tyranny, does that make the tyranny right? Does might make right?” + </p> + <p> + “You must make less noise in here, Mister Schouler,” said Frenna, from + behind the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it makes me mad,” answered Marcus, subsiding into a growl and + resuming his chair. “Hullo, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Mark.” + </p> + <p> + But McTeague's presence made Marcus uneasy, rousing in him at once a sense + of wrong. He twisted to and fro in his chair, shrugging first one shoulder + and then another. Quarrelsome at all times, the heat of the previous + discussion had awakened within him all his natural combativeness. Besides + this, he was drinking his fourth cocktail. + </p> + <p> + McTeague began filling his big porcelain pipe. He lit it, blew a great + cloud of smoke into the room, and settled himself comfortably in his + chair. The smoke of his cheap tobacco drifted into the faces of the group + at the adjoining table, and Marcus strangled and coughed. Instantly his + eyes flamed. + </p> + <p> + “Say, for God's sake,” he vociferated, “choke off on that pipe! If you've + got to smoke rope like that, smoke it in a crowd of muckers; don't come + here amongst gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, Schouler!” observed Heise in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + McTeague was stunned by the suddenness of the attack. He took his pipe + from his mouth, and stared blankly at Marcus; his lips moved, but he said + no word. Marcus turned his back on him, and the dentist resumed his pipe. + </p> + <p> + But Marcus was far from being appeased. McTeague could not hear the talk + that followed between him and the harnessmaker, but it seemed to him that + Marcus was telling Heise of some injury, some grievance, and that the + latter was trying to pacify him. All at once their talk grew louder. Heise + laid a retaining hand upon his companion's coat sleeve, but Marcus swung + himself around in his chair, and, fixing his eyes on McTeague, cried as if + in answer to some protestation on the part of Heise: + </p> + <p> + “All I know is that I've been soldiered out of five thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague gaped at him, bewildered. He removed his pipe from his mouth a + second time, and stared at Marcus with eyes full of trouble and + perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “If I had my rights,” cried Marcus, bitterly, “I'd have part of that + money. It's my due—it's only justice.” The dentist still kept + silence. + </p> + <p> + “If it hadn't been for me,” Marcus continued, addressing himself directly + to McTeague, “you wouldn't have had a cent of it—no, not a cent. + Where's my share, I'd like to know? Where do I come in? No, I ain't in it + any more. I've been played for a sucker, an' now that you've got all you + can out of me, now that you've done me out of my girl and out of my money, + you give me the go-by. Why, where would you have been TO-DAY if it hadn't + been for me?” Marcus shouted in a sudden exasperation, “You'd a been + plugging teeth at two bits an hour. Ain't you got any gratitude? Ain't you + got any sense of decency?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, hold up, Schouler,” grumbled Heise. “You don't want to get into a + row.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, Heise,” returned Marcus, with a plaintive, aggrieved air. + “But it's too much sometimes when you think of it. He stole away my girl's + affections, and now that he's rich and prosperous, and has got five + thousand dollars that I might have had, he gives me the go-by; he's played + me for a sucker. Look here,” he cried, turning again to McTeague, “do I + get any of that money?” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't mine to give,” answered McTeague. “You're drunk, that's what you + are.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I get any of that money?” cried Marcus, persistently. + </p> + <p> + The dentist shook his head. “No, you don't get any of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now—NOW,” clamored the other, turning to the harnessmaker, as + though this explained everything. “Look at that, look at that. Well, I've + done with you from now on.” Marcus had risen to his feet by this time and + made as if to leave, but at every instant he came back, shouting his + phrases into McTeague's face, moving off again as he spoke the last words, + in order to give them better effect. + </p> + <p> + “This settles it right here. I've done with you. Don't you ever dare speak + to me again”—his voice was shaking with fury—“and don't you + sit at my table in the restaurant again. I'm sorry I ever lowered myself + to keep company with such dirt. Ah, one-horse dentist! Ah, ten-cent + zinc-plugger—hoodlum—MUCKER! Get your damn smoke outa my + face.” + </p> + <p> + Then matters reached a sudden climax. In his agitation the dentist had + been pulling hard on his pipe, and as Marcus for the last time thrust his + face close to his own, McTeague, in opening his lips to reply, blew a + stifling, acrid cloud directly in Marcus Schouler's eyes. Marcus knocked + the pipe from his fingers with a sudden flash of his hand; it spun across + the room and broke into a dozen fragments in a far corner. + </p> + <p> + McTeague rose to his feet, his eyes wide. But as yet he was not angry, + only surprised, taken all aback by the suddenness of Marcus Schouler's + outbreak as well as by its unreasonableness. Why had Marcus broken his + pipe? What did it all mean, anyway? As he rose the dentist made a vague + motion with his right hand. Did Marcus misinterpret it as a gesture of + menace? He sprang back as though avoiding a blow. All at once there was a + cry. Marcus had made a quick, peculiar motion, swinging his arm upward + with a wide and sweeping gesture; his jack-knife lay open in his palm; it + shot forward as he flung it, glinted sharply by McTeague's head, and + struck quivering into the wall behind. + </p> + <p> + A sudden chill ran through the room; the others stood transfixed, as at + the swift passage of some cold and deadly wind. Death had stooped there + for an instant, had stooped and past, leaving a trail of terror and + confusion. Then the door leading to the street slammed; Marcus had + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Thereon a great babel of exclamation arose. The tension of that all but + fatal instant snapped, and speech became once more possible. + </p> + <p> + “He would have knifed you.” + </p> + <p> + “Narrow escape.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man do you call THAT?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't his fault he ain't a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have him up for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And they two have been the greatest kind of friends.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't touch you, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—no.” + </p> + <p> + “What a—what a devil! What treachery! A regular greaser trick!” + </p> + <p> + “Look out he don't stab you in the back. If that's the kind of man he is, + you never can tell.” + </p> + <p> + Frenna drew the knife from the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Guess I'll keep this toad-stabber,” he observed. “That fellow won't come + round for it in a hurry; goodsized blade, too.” The group examined it with + intense interest. + </p> + <p> + “Big enough to let the life out of any man,” observed Heise. + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what did he do it for?” stammered McTeague. “I got + no quarrel with him.” + </p> + <p> + He was puzzled and harassed by the strangeness of it all. Marcus would + have killed him; had thrown his knife at him in the true, uncanny + “greaser” style. It was inexplicable. McTeague sat down again, looking + stupidly about on the floor. In a corner of the room his eye encountered + his broken pipe, a dozen little fragments of painted porcelain and the + stem of cherry wood and amber. + </p> + <p> + At that sight his tardy wrath, ever lagging behind the original affront, + suddenly blazed up. Instantly his huge jaws clicked together. + </p> + <p> + “He can't make small of ME,” he exclaimed, suddenly. “I'll show Marcus + Schouler—I'll show him—I'll——” + </p> + <p> + He got up and clapped on his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Doctor,” remonstrated Heise, standing between him and the door, + “don't go make a fool of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let 'um alone,” joined in Frenna, catching the dentist by the arm; “he's + full, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “He broke my pipe,” answered McTeague. + </p> + <p> + It was this that had roused him. The thrown knife, the attempt on his + life, was beyond his solution; but the breaking of his pipe he understood + clearly enough. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show him,” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + As though they had been little children, McTeague set Frenna and the + harness-maker aside, and strode out at the door like a raging elephant. + Heise stood rubbing his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Might as well try to stop a locomotive,” he muttered. “The man's made of + iron.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, McTeague went storming up the street toward the flat, wagging + his head and grumbling to himself. Ah, Marcus would break his pipe, would + he? Ah, he was a zinc-plugger, was he? He'd show Marcus Schouler. No one + should make small of him. He tramped up the stairs to Marcus's room. The + door was locked. The dentist put one enormous hand on the knob and pushed + the door in, snapping the wood-work, tearing off the lock. Nobody—the + room was dark and empty. Never mind, Marcus would have to come home some + time that night. McTeague would go down and wait for him in his “Parlors.” + He was bound to hear him as he came up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + As McTeague reached his room he stumbled over, in the darkness, a big + packing-box that stood in the hallway just outside his door. Puzzled, he + stepped over it, and lighting the gas in his room, dragged it inside and + examined it. + </p> + <p> + It was addressed to him. What could it mean? He was expecting nothing. + Never since he had first furnished his room had packing-cases been left + for him in this fashion. No mistake was possible. There were his name and + address unmistakably. “Dr. McTeague, dentist—Polk Street, San + Francisco, Cal.,” and the red Wells Fargo tag. + </p> + <p> + Seized with the joyful curiosity of an overgrown boy, he pried off the + boards with the corner of his fireshovel. The case was stuffed full of + excelsior. On the top lay an envelope addressed to him in Trina's + handwriting. He opened it and read, “For my dear Mac's birthday, from + Trina;” and below, in a kind of post-script, “The man will be round + to-morrow to put it in place.” McTeague tore away the excelsior. Suddenly + he uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + It was the Tooth—the famous golden molar with its huge prongs—his + sign, his ambition, the one unrealized dream of his life; and it was + French gilt, too, not the cheap German gilt that was no good. Ah, what a + dear little woman was this Trina, to keep so quiet, to remember his + birthday! + </p> + <p> + “Ain't she—ain't she just a—just a JEWEL,” exclaimed McTeague + under his breath, “a JEWEL—yes, just a JEWEL; that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + Very carefully he removed the rest of the excelsior, and lifting the + ponderous Tooth from its box, set it upon the marble-top centre table. How + immense it looked in that little room! The thing was tremendous, + overpowering—the tooth of a gigantic fossil, golden and dazzling. + Beside it everything seemed dwarfed. Even McTeague himself, big boned and + enormous as he was, shrank and dwindled in the presence of the monster. As + for an instant he bore it in his hands, it was like a puny Gulliver + struggling with the molar of some vast Brobdingnag. + </p> + <p> + The dentist circled about that golden wonder, gasping with delight and + stupefaction, touching it gingerly with his hands as if it were something + sacred. At every moment his thought returned to Trina. No, never was there + such a little woman as his—the very thing he wanted—how had + she remembered? And the money, where had that come from? No one knew + better than he how expensive were these signs; not another dentist on Polk + Street could afford one. Where, then, had Trina found the money? It came + out of her five thousand dollars, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + But what a wonderful, beautiful tooth it was, to be sure, bright as a + mirror, shining there in its coat of French gilt, as if with a light of + its own! No danger of that tooth turning black with the weather, as did + the cheap German gilt impostures. What would that other dentist, that + poser, that rider of bicycles, that courser of greyhounds, say when he + should see this marvellous molar run out from McTeague's bay window like a + flag of defiance? No doubt he would suffer veritable convulsions of envy; + would be positively sick with jealousy. If McTeague could only see his + face at the moment! + </p> + <p> + For a whole hour the dentist sat there in his little “Parlor,” gazing + ecstatically at his treasure, dazzled, supremely content. The whole room + took on a different aspect because of it. The stone pug dog before the + little stove reflected it in his protruding eyes; the canary woke and + chittered feebly at this new gilt, so much brighter than the bars of its + little prison. Lorenzo de' Medici, in the steel engraving, sitting in the + heart of his court, seemed to ogle the thing out of the corner of one eye, + while the brilliant colors of the unused rifle manufacturer's calendar + seemed to fade and pale in the brilliance of this greater glory. + </p> + <p> + At length, long after midnight, the dentist started to go to bed, + undressing himself with his eyes still fixed on the great tooth. All at + once he heard Marcus Schouler's foot on the stairs; he started up with his + fists clenched, but immediately dropped back upon the bed-lounge with a + gesture of indifference. + </p> + <p> + He was in no truculent state of mind now. He could not reinstate himself + in that mood of wrath wherein he had left the corner grocery. The tooth + had changed all that. What was Marcus Schouler's hatred to him, who had + Trina's affection? What did he care about a broken pipe now that he had + the tooth? Let him go. As Frenna said, he was not worth it. He heard + Marcus come out into the hall, shouting aggrievedly to anyone within sound + of his voice: + </p> + <p> + “An' now he breaks into my room—into my room, by damn! How do I know + how many things he's stolen? It's come to stealing from me, now, has it?” + He went into his room, banging his splintered door. + </p> + <p> + McTeague looked upward at the ceiling, in the direction of the voice, + muttering: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, go to bed, you.” + </p> + <p> + He went to bed himself, turning out the gas, but leaving the + window-curtains up so that he could see the tooth the last thing before he + went to sleep and the first thing as he arose in the morning. + </p> + <p> + But he was restless during the night. Every now and then he was awakened + by noises to which he had long since become accustomed. Now it was the + cackling of the geese in the deserted market across the street; now it was + the stoppage of the cable, the sudden silence coming almost like a shock; + and now it was the infuriated barking of the dogs in the back yard—Alec, + the Irish setter, and the collie that belonged to the branch post-office + raging at each other through the fence, snarling their endless hatred into + each other's faces. As often as he woke, McTeague turned and looked for + the tooth, with a sudden suspicion that he had only that moment dreamed + the whole business. But he always found it—Trina's gift, his + birthday from his little woman—a huge, vague bulk, looming there + through the half darkness in the centre of the room, shining dimly out as + if with some mysterious light of its own. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9 + </h2> + <p> + Trina and McTeague were married on the first day of June, in the + photographer's rooms that the dentist had rented. All through May the + Sieppe household had been turned upside down. The little box of a house + vibrated with excitement and confusion, for not only were the preparations + for Trina's marriage to be made, but also the preliminaries were to be + arranged for the hegira of the entire Sieppe family. + </p> + <p> + They were to move to the southern part of the State the day after Trina's + marriage, Mr. Sieppe having bought a third interest in an upholstering + business in the suburbs of Los Angeles. It was possible that Marcus + Schouler would go with them. + </p> + <p> + Not Stanley penetrating for the first time into the Dark Continent, not + Napoleon leading his army across the Alps, was more weighted with + responsibility, more burdened with care, more overcome with the sense of + the importance of his undertaking, than was Mr. Sieppe during this period + of preparation. From dawn to dark, from dark to early dawn, he toiled and + planned and fretted, organizing and reorganizing, projecting and devising. + The trunks were lettered, A, B, and C, the packages and smaller bundles + numbered. Each member of the family had his especial duty to perform, his + particular bundles to oversee. Not a detail was forgotten—fares, + prices, and tips were calculated to two places of decimals. Even the + amount of food that it would be necessary to carry for the black greyhound + was determined. Mrs. Sieppe was to look after the lunch, “der gomisariat.” + Mr. Sieppe would assume charge of the checks, the money, the tickets, and, + of course, general supervision. The twins would be under the command of + Owgooste, who, in turn, would report for orders to his father. + </p> + <p> + Day in and day out these minutiae were rehearsed. The children were + drilled in their parts with a military exactitude; obedience and + punctuality became cardinal virtues. The vast importance of the + undertaking was insisted upon with scrupulous iteration. It was a + manoeuvre, an army changing its base of operations, a veritable tribal + migration. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Trina's little room was the centre around which + revolved another and different order of things. The dressmaker came and + went, congratulatory visitors invaded the little front parlor, the chatter + of unfamiliar voices resounded from the front steps; bonnet-boxes and + yards of dress-goods littered the beds and chairs; wrapping paper, tissue + paper, and bits of string strewed the floor; a pair of white satin + slippers stood on a corner of the toilet table; lengths of white veiling, + like a snow-flurry, buried the little work-table; and a mislaid box of + artificial orange blossoms was finally discovered behind the bureau. + </p> + <p> + The two systems of operation often clashed and tangled. Mrs. Sieppe was + found by her harassed husband helping Trina with the waist of her gown + when she should have been slicing cold chicken in the kitchen. Mr. Sieppe + packed his frock coat, which he would have to wear at the wedding, at the + very bottom of “Trunk C.” The minister, who called to offer his + congratulations and to make arrangements, was mistaken for the expressman. + </p> + <p> + McTeague came and went furtively, dizzied and made uneasy by all this + bustle. He got in the way; he trod upon and tore breadths of silk; he + tried to help carry the packing-boxes, and broke the hall gas fixture; he + came in upon Trina and the dress-maker at an ill-timed moment, and + retiring precipitately, overturned the piles of pictures stacked in the + hall. + </p> + <p> + There was an incessant going and coming at every moment of the day, a + great calling up and down stairs, a shouting from room to room, an opening + and shutting of doors, and an intermittent sound of hammering from the + laundry, where Mr. Sieppe in his shirt sleeves labored among the + packing-boxes. The twins clattered about on the carpetless floors of the + denuded rooms. Owgooste was smacked from hour to hour, and wept upon the + front stairs; the dressmaker called over the banisters for a hot flatiron; + expressmen tramped up and down the stairway. Mrs. Sieppe stopped in the + preparation of the lunches to call “Hoop, Hoop” to the greyhound, throwing + lumps of coal. The dog-wheel creaked, the front door bell rang, delivery + wagons rumbled away, windows rattled—the little house was in a + positive uproar. + </p> + <p> + Almost every day of the week now Trina was obliged to run over to town and + meet McTeague. No more philandering over their lunch now-a-days. It was + business now. They haunted the house-furnishing floors of the great + department houses, inspecting and pricing ranges, hardware, china, and the + like. They rented the photographer's rooms furnished, and fortunately only + the kitchen and dining-room utensils had to be bought. + </p> + <p> + The money for this as well as for her trousseau came out of Trina's five + thousand dollars. For it had been finally decided that two hundred dollars + of this amount should be devoted to the establishment of the new + household. Now that Trina had made her great winning, Mr. Sieppe no longer + saw the necessity of dowering her further, especially when he considered + the enormous expense to which he would be put by the voyage of his own + family. + </p> + <p> + It had been a dreadful wrench for Trina to break in upon her precious five + thousand. She clung to this sum with a tenacity that was surprising; it + had become for her a thing miraculous, a god-from-the-machine, suddenly + descending upon the stage of her humble little life; she regarded it as + something almost sacred and inviolable. Never, never should a penny of it + be spent. Before she could be induced to part with two hundred dollars of + it, more than one scene had been enacted between her and her parents. + </p> + <p> + Did Trina pay for the golden tooth out of this two hundred? Later on, the + dentist often asked her about it, but Trina invariably laughed in his + face, declaring that it was her secret. McTeague never found out. + </p> + <p> + One day during this period McTeague told Trina about his affair with + Marcus. Instantly she was aroused. + </p> + <p> + “He threw his knife at you! The coward! He wouldn't of dared stand up to + you like a man. Oh, Mac, suppose he HAD hit you?” + </p> + <p> + “Came within an inch of my head,” put in McTeague, proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it!” she gasped; “and he wanted part of my money. Well, I do + like his cheek; part of my five thousand! Why, it's mine, every single + penny of it. Marcus hasn't the least bit of right to it. It's mine, mine.—I + mean, it's ours, Mac, dear.” + </p> + <p> + The elder Sieppes, however, made excuses for Marcus. He had probably been + drinking a good deal and didn't know what he was about. He had a dreadful + temper, anyhow. Maybe he only wanted to scare McTeague. + </p> + <p> + The week before the marriage the two men were reconciled. Mrs. Sieppe + brought them together in the front parlor of the B Street house. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you two fellers, don't be dot foolish. Schake hands und maig ut oop, + soh.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus muttered an apology. McTeague, miserably embarrassed, rolled his + eyes about the room, murmuring, “That's all right—that's all right—that's + all right.” + </p> + <p> + However, when it was proposed that Marcus should be McTeague's best man, + he flashed out again with renewed violence. Ah, no! ah, NO! He'd make up + with the dentist now that he was going away, but he'd be damned—yes, + he would—before he'd be his best man. That was rubbing it in. Let + him get Old Grannis. + </p> + <p> + “I'm friends with um all right,” vociferated Marcus, “but I'll not stand + up with um. I'll not be ANYBODY'S best man, I won't.” + </p> + <p> + The wedding was to be very quiet; Trina preferred it that way. McTeague + would invite only Miss Baker and Heise the harness-maker. The Sieppes sent + cards to Selina, who was counted on to furnish the music; to Marcus, of + course; and to Uncle Oelbermann. + </p> + <p> + At last the great day, the first of June, arrived. The Sieppes had packed + their last box and had strapped the last trunk. Trina's two trunks had + already been sent to her new home—the remodelled photographer's + rooms. The B Street house was deserted; the whole family came over to the + city on the last day of May and stopped over night at one of the cheap + downtown hotels. Trina would be married the following evening, and + immediately after the wedding supper the Sieppes would leave for the + South. + </p> + <p> + McTeague spent the day in a fever of agitation, frightened out of his wits + each time that Old Grannis left his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis was delighted beyond measure at the prospect of acting the + part of best man in the ceremony. This wedding in which he was to figure + filled his mind with vague ideas and half-formed thoughts. He found + himself continually wondering what Miss Baker would think of it. During + all that day he was in a reflective mood. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage is a—a noble institution, is it not, Doctor?” he observed + to McTeague. “The—the foundation of society. It is not good that man + should be alone. No, no,” he added, pensively, “it is not good.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Yes, yes,” McTeague answered, his eyes in the air, hardly hearing + him. “Do you think the rooms are all right? Let's go in and look at them + again.” + </p> + <p> + They went down the hall to where the new rooms were situated, and the + dentist inspected them for the twentieth time. + </p> + <p> + The rooms were three in number—first, the sitting-room, which was + also the dining-room; then the bedroom, and back of this the tiny kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The sitting-room was particularly charming. Clean matting covered the + floor, and two or three bright colored rugs were scattered here and there. + The backs of the chairs were hung with knitted worsted tidies, very gay. + The bay window should have been occupied by Trina's sewing machine, but + this had been moved to the other side of the room to give place to a + little black walnut table with spiral legs, before which the pair were to + be married. In one corner stood the parlor melodeon, a family possession + of the Sieppes, but given now to Trina as one of her parents' wedding + presents. Three pictures hung upon the walls. Two were companion pieces. + One of these represented a little boy wearing huge spectacles and trying + to smoke an enormous pipe. This was called “I'm Grandpa,” the title being + printed in large black letters; the companion picture was entitled “I'm + Grandma,” a little girl in cap and “specs,” wearing mitts, and knitting. + These pictures were hung on either side of the mantelpiece. The other + picture was quite an affair, very large and striking. It was a colored + lithograph of two little golden-haired girls in their nightgowns. They + were kneeling down and saying their prayers; their eyes—very large + and very blue—rolled upward. This picture had for name, “Faith,” and + was bordered with a red plush mat and a frame of imitation beaten brass. + </p> + <p> + A door hung with chenille portieres—a bargain at two dollars and a + half—admitted one to the bedroom. The bedroom could boast a carpet, + three-ply ingrain, the design being bunches of red and green flowers in + yellow baskets on a white ground. The wall-paper was admirable—hundreds + and hundreds of tiny Japanese mandarins, all identically alike, helping + hundreds of almond-eyed ladies into hundreds of impossible junks, while + hundreds of bamboo palms overshadowed the pair, and hundreds of + long-legged storks trailed contemptuously away from the scene. This room + was prolific in pictures. Most of them were framed colored prints from + Christmas editions of the London “Graphic” and “Illustrated News,” the + subject of each picture inevitably involving very alert fox terriers and + very pretty moon-faced little girls. + </p> + <p> + Back of the bedroom was the kitchen, a creation of Trina's, a dream of a + kitchen, with its range, its porcelain-lined sink, its copper boiler, and + its overpowering array of flashing tinware. Everything was new; everything + was complete. + </p> + <p> + Maria Macapa and a waiter from one of the restaurants in the street were + to prepare the wedding supper here. Maria had already put in an + appearance. The fire was crackling in the new stove, that smoked badly; a + smell of cooking was in the air. She drove McTeague and Old Grannis from + the room with great gestures of her bare arms. + </p> + <p> + This kitchen was the only one of the three rooms they had been obliged to + furnish throughout. Most of the sitting-room and bedroom furniture went + with the suite; a few pieces they had bought; the remainder Trina had + brought over from the B Street house. + </p> + <p> + The presents had been set out on the extension table in the sitting-room. + Besides the parlor melodeon, Trina's parents had given her an ice-water + set, and a carving knife and fork with elk-horn handles. Selina had + painted a view of the Golden Gate upon a polished slice of redwood that + answered the purposes of a paper weight. Marcus Schouler—after + impressing upon Trina that his gift was to HER, and not to McTeague—had + sent a chatelaine watch of German silver; Uncle Oelbermann's present, + however, had been awaited with a good deal of curiosity. What would he + send? He was very rich; in a sense Trina was his protege. A couple of days + before that upon which the wedding was to take place, two boxes arrived + with his card. Trina and McTeague, assisted by Old Grannis, had opened + them. The first was a box of all sorts of toys. + </p> + <p> + “But what—what—I don't make it out,” McTeague had exclaimed. + “Why should he send us toys? We have no need of toys.” Scarlet to her + hair, Trina dropped into a chair and laughed till she cried behind her + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “We've no use of toys,” muttered McTeague, looking at her in perplexity. + Old Grannis smiled discreetly, raising a tremulous hand to his chin. + </p> + <p> + The other box was heavy, bound with withes at the edges, the letters and + stamps burnt in. + </p> + <p> + “I think—I really think it's champagne,” said Old Grannis in a + whisper. So it was. A full case of Monopole. What a wonder! None of them + had seen the like before. Ah, this Uncle Oelbermann! That's what it was to + be rich. Not one of the other presents produced so deep an impression as + this. + </p> + <p> + After Old Grannis and the dentist had gone through the rooms, giving a + last look around to see that everything was ready, they returned to + McTeague's “Parlors.” At the door Old Grannis excused himself. + </p> + <p> + At four o'clock McTeague began to dress, shaving himself first before the + hand-glass that was hung against the woodwork of the bay window. While he + shaved he sang with strange inappropriateness: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No one to love, none to Caress, + Left all alone in this world's wilderness.” + </pre> + <p> + But as he stood before the mirror, intent upon his shaving, there came a + roll of wheels over the cobbles in front of the house. He rushed to the + window. Trina had arrived with her father and mother. He saw her get out, + and as she glanced upward at his window, their eyes met. + </p> + <p> + Ah, there she was. There she was, his little woman, looking up at him, her + adorable little chin thrust upward with that familiar movement of + innocence and confidence. The dentist saw again, as if for the first time, + her small, pale face looking out from beneath her royal tiara of black + hair; he saw again her long, narrow blue eyes; her lips, nose, and tiny + ears, pale and bloodless, and suggestive of anaemia, as if all the + vitality that should have lent them color had been sucked up into the + strands and coils of that wonderful hair. + </p> + <p> + As their eyes met they waved their hands gayly to each other; then + McTeague heard Trina and her mother come up the stairs and go into the + bedroom of the photographer's suite, where Trina was to dress. + </p> + <p> + No, no; surely there could be no longer any hesitation. He knew that he + loved her. What was the matter with him, that he should have doubted it + for an instant? The great difficulty was that she was too good, too + adorable, too sweet, too delicate for him, who was so huge, so clumsy, so + brutal. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. It was Old Grannis. He was dressed in his + one black suit of broadcloth, much wrinkled; his hair was carefully + brushed over his bald forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Trina has come,” he announced, “and the minister. You have an hour + yet.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist finished dressing. He wore a suit bought for the occasion—a + ready made “Prince Albert” coat too short in the sleeves, striped “blue” + trousers, and new patent leather shoes—veritable instruments of + torture. Around his collar was a wonderful necktie that Trina had given + him; it was of salmon-pink satin; in its centre Selina had painted a knot + of blue forget-me-nots. + </p> + <p> + At length, after an interminable period of waiting, Mr. Sieppe appeared at + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Are you reatty?” he asked in a sepulchral whisper. “Gome, den.” It was + like King Charles summoned to execution. Mr. Sieppe preceded them into the + hall, moving at a funereal pace. He paused. Suddenly, in the direction of + the sitting-room, came the strains of the parlor melodeon. Mr. Sieppe + flung his arm in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Vowaarts!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + He left them at the door of the sitting-room, he himself going into the + bedroom where Trina was waiting, entering by the hall door. He was in a + tremendous state of nervous tension, fearful lest something should go + wrong. He had employed the period of waiting in going through his part for + the fiftieth time, repeating what he had to say in a low voice. He had + even made chalk marks on the matting in the places where he was to take + positions. + </p> + <p> + The dentist and Old Grannis entered the sitting-room; the minister stood + behind the little table in the bay window, holding a book, one finger + marking the place; he was rigid, erect, impassive. On either side of him, + in a semi-circle, stood the invited guests. A little pock-marked gentleman + in glasses, no doubt the famous Uncle Oelbermann; Miss Baker, in her black + grenadine, false curls, and coral brooch; Marcus Schouler, his arms + folded, his brows bent, grand and gloomy; Heise the harness-maker, in + yellow gloves, intently studying the pattern of the matting; and Owgooste, + in his Fauntleroy “costume,” stupefied and a little frightened, rolling + his eyes from face to face. Selina sat at the parlor melodeon, fingering + the keys, her glance wandering to the chenille portieres. She stopped + playing as McTeague and Old Grannis entered and took their places. A + profound silence ensued. Uncle Oelbermann's shirt front could be heard + creaking as he breathed. The most solemn expression pervaded every face. + </p> + <p> + All at once the portieres were shaken violently. It was a signal. Selina + pulled open the stops and swung into the wedding march. + </p> + <p> + Trina entered. She was dressed in white silk, a crown of orange blossoms + was around her swarthy hair—dressed high for the first time—her + veil reached to the floor. Her face was pink, but otherwise she was calm. + She looked quietly around the room as she crossed it, until her glance + rested on McTeague, smiling at him then very prettily and with perfect + self-possession. + </p> + <p> + She was on her father's arm. The twins, dressed exactly alike, walked in + front, each carrying an enormous bouquet of cut flowers in a “lace-paper” + holder. Mrs. Sieppe followed in the rear. She was crying; her handkerchief + was rolled into a wad. From time to time she looked at the train of + Trina's dress through her tears. Mr. Sieppe marched his daughter to the + exact middle of the floor, wheeled at right angles, and brought her up to + the minister. He stepped back three paces, and stood planted upon one of + his chalk marks, his face glistening with perspiration. + </p> + <p> + Then Trina and the dentist were married. The guests stood in constrained + attitudes, looking furtively out of the corners of their eyes. Mr. Sieppe + never moved a muscle; Mrs. Sieppe cried into her handkerchief all the + time. At the melodeon Selina played “Call Me Thine Own,” very softly, the + tremulo stop pulled out. She looked over her shoulder from time to time. + Between the pauses of the music one could hear the low tones of the + minister, the responses of the participants, and the suppressed sounds of + Mrs. Sieppe's weeping. Outside the noises of the street rose to the + windows in muffled undertones, a cable car rumbled past, a newsboy went by + chanting the evening papers; from somewhere in the building itself came a + persistent noise of sawing. + </p> + <p> + Trina and McTeague knelt. The dentist's knees thudded on the floor and he + presented to view the soles of his shoes, painfully new and unworn, the + leather still yellow, the brass nail heads still glittering. Trina sank at + his side very gracefully, setting her dress and train with a little + gesture of her free hand. The company bowed their heads, Mr. Sieppe + shutting his eyes tight. But Mrs. Sieppe took advantage of the moment to + stop crying and make furtive gestures towards Owgooste, signing him to + pull down his coat. But Owgooste gave no heed; his eyes were starting from + their sockets, his chin had dropped upon his lace collar, and his head + turned vaguely from side to side with a continued and maniacal motion. + </p> + <p> + All at once the ceremony was over before any one expected it. The guests + kept their positions for a moment, eyeing one another, each fearing to + make the first move, not quite certain as to whether or not everything + were finished. But the couple faced the room, Trina throwing back her + veil. She—perhaps McTeague as well—felt that there was a + certain inadequateness about the ceremony. Was that all there was to it? + Did just those few muttered phrases make them man and wife? It had been + over in a few moments, but it had bound them for life. Had not something + been left out? Was not the whole affair cursory, superficial? It was + disappointing. + </p> + <p> + But Trina had no time to dwell upon this. Marcus Schouler, in the manner + of a man of the world, who knew how to act in every situation, stepped + forward and, even before Mr. or Mrs. Sieppe, took Trina's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Let me be the first to congratulate Mrs. McTeague,” he said, feeling very + noble and heroic. The strain of the previous moments was relaxed + immediately, the guests crowded around the pair, shaking hands—a + babel of talk arose. + </p> + <p> + “Owgooste, WILL you pull down your goat, den?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, now you're married and happy. When I first saw you two + together, I said, 'What a pair!' We're to be neighbors now; you must come + up and see me very often and we'll have tea together.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear that sawing going on all the time? I declare it regularly + got on my nerves.” + </p> + <p> + Trina kissed her father and mother, crying a little herself as she saw the + tears in Mrs. Sieppe's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Marcus came forward a second time, and, with an air of great gravity, + kissed his cousin upon the forehead. Heise was introduced to Trina and + Uncle Oelbermann to the dentist. + </p> + <p> + For upwards of half an hour the guests stood about in groups, filling the + little sitting-room with a great chatter of talk. Then it was time to make + ready for supper. + </p> + <p> + This was a tremendous task, in which nearly all the guests were obliged to + assist. The sitting-room was transformed into a dining-room. The presents + were removed from the extension table and the table drawn out to its full + length. The cloth was laid, the chairs—rented from the dancing + academy hard by—drawn up, the dishes set out, and the two bouquets + of cut flowers taken from the twins under their shrill protests, and + “arranged” in vases at either end of the table. + </p> + <p> + There was a great coming and going between the kitchen and the + sitting-room. Trina, who was allowed to do nothing, sat in the bay window + and fretted, calling to her mother from time to time: + </p> + <p> + “The napkins are in the right-hand drawer of the pantry.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I got um. Where do you geep der zoup blates?” + </p> + <p> + “The soup plates are here already.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Cousin Trina, is there a corkscrew? What is home without a + corkscrew?” + </p> + <p> + “In the kitchen-table drawer, in the left-hand corner.” + </p> + <p> + “Are these the forks you want to use, Mrs. McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, there's some silver forks. Mamma knows where.” + </p> + <p> + They were all very gay, laughing over their mistakes, getting in one + another's way, rushing into the sitting-room, their hands full of plates + or knives or glasses, and darting out again after more. Marcus and Mr. + Sieppe took their coats off. Old Grannis and Miss Baker passed each other + in the hall in a constrained silence, her grenadine brushing against the + elbow of his wrinkled frock coat. Uncle Oelbermann superintended Heise + opening the case of champagne with the gravity of a magistrate. Owgooste + was assigned the task of filling the new salt and pepper canisters of red + and blue glass. + </p> + <p> + In a wonderfully short time everything was ready. Marcus Schouler resumed + his coat, wiping his forehead, and remarking: + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, I've been doing CHORES for MY board.” + </p> + <p> + “To der table!” commanded Mr. Sieppe. + </p> + <p> + The company sat down with a great clatter, Trina at the foot, the dentist + at the head, the others arranged themselves in haphazard fashion. But it + happened that Marcus Schouler crowded into the seat beside Selina, towards + which Old Grannis was directing himself. There was but one other chair + vacant, and that at the side of Miss Baker. Old Grannis hesitated, putting + his hand to his chin. However, there was no escape. In great trepidation + he sat down beside the retired dressmaker. Neither of them spoke. Old + Grannis dared not move, but sat rigid, his eyes riveted on his empty soup + plate. + </p> + <p> + All at once there was a report like a pistol. The men started in their + places. Mrs. Sieppe uttered a muffled shriek. The waiter from the cheap + restaurant, hired as Maria's assistant, rose from a bending posture, a + champagne bottle frothing in his hand; he was grinning from ear to ear. + </p> + <p> + “Don't get scairt,” he said, reassuringly, “it ain't loaded.” + </p> + <p> + When all their glasses had been filled, Marcus proposed the health of the + bride, “standing up.” The guests rose and drank. Hardly one of them had + ever tasted champagne before. The moment's silence after the toast was + broken by McTeague exclaiming with a long breath of satisfaction: “That's + the best beer I ever drank.” + </p> + <p> + There was a roar of laughter. Especially was Marcus tickled over the + dentist's blunder; he went off in a very spasm of mirth, banging the table + with his fist, laughing until his eyes watered. All through the meal he + kept breaking out into cackling imitations of McTeague's words: “That's + the best BEER I ever drank. Oh, Lord, ain't that a break!” + </p> + <p> + What a wonderful supper that was! There was oyster soup; there were sea + bass and barracuda; there was a gigantic roast goose stuffed with + chestnuts; there were egg-plant and sweet potatoes—Miss Baker called + them “yams.” There was calf's head in oil, over which Mr. Sieppe went into + ecstasies; there was lobster salad; there were rice pudding, and + strawberry ice cream, and wine jelly, and stewed prunes, and cocoanuts, + and mixed nuts, and raisins, and fruit, and tea, and coffee, and mineral + waters, and lemonade. + </p> + <p> + For two hours the guests ate; their faces red, their elbows wide, the + perspiration beading their foreheads. All around the table one saw the + same incessant movement of jaws and heard the same uninterrupted sound of + chewing. Three times Heise passed his plate for more roast goose. Mr. + Sieppe devoured the calf's head with long breaths of contentment; McTeague + ate for the sake of eating, without choice; everything within reach of his + hands found its way into his enormous mouth. + </p> + <p> + There was but little conversation, and that only of the food; one + exchanged opinions with one's neighbor as to the soup, the egg-plant, or + the stewed prunes. Soon the room became very warm, a faint moisture + appeared upon the windows, the air was heavy with the smell of cooked + food. At every moment Trina or Mrs. Sieppe urged some one of the company + to have his or her plate refilled. They were constantly employed in + dishing potatoes or carving the goose or ladling gravy. The hired waiter + circled around the room, his limp napkin over his arm, his hands full of + plates and dishes. He was a great joker; he had names of his own for + different articles of food, that sent gales of laughter around the table. + When he spoke of a bunch of parsley as “scenery,” Heise all but strangled + himself over a mouthful of potato. Out in the kitchen Maria Macapa did the + work of three, her face scarlet, her sleeves rolled up; every now and then + she uttered shrill but unintelligible outcries, supposedly addressed to + the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Oelbermann,” said Trina, “let me give you another helping of + prunes.” + </p> + <p> + The Sieppes paid great deference to Uncle Oelbermann, as indeed did the + whole company. Even Marcus Schouler lowered his voice when he addressed + him. At the beginning of the meal he had nudged the harness-maker and had + whispered behind his hand, nodding his head toward the wholesale toy + dealer, “Got thirty thousand dollars in the bank; has, for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't have much to say,” observed Heise. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. That's his way; never opens his face.” + </p> + <p> + As the evening wore on, the gas and two lamps were lit. The company were + still eating. The men, gorged with food, had unbuttoned their vests. + McTeague's cheeks were distended, his eyes wide, his huge, salient jaw + moved with a machine-like regularity; at intervals he drew a series of + short breaths through his nose. Mrs. Sieppe wiped her forehead with her + napkin. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, dere, poy, gif me some more oaf dat—what you call—'bubble-water.'” + </p> + <p> + That was how the waiter had spoken of the champagne—“bubble-water.” + The guests had shouted applause, “Outa sight.” He was a heavy josher was + that waiter. + </p> + <p> + Bottle after bottle was opened, the women stopping their ears as the corks + were drawn. All of a sudden the dentist uttered an exclamation, clapping + his hand to his nose, his face twisting sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Mac, what is it?” cried Trina in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “That champagne came to my nose,” he cried, his eyes watering. “It stings + like everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Great BEER, ain't ut?” shouted Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mark,” remonstrated Trina in a low voice. “Now, Mark, you just shut + up; that isn't funny any more. I don't want you should make fun of Mac. He + called it beer on purpose. I guess HE knows.” + </p> + <p> + Throughout the meal old Miss Baker had occupied herself largely with + Owgooste and the twins, who had been given a table by themselves—the + black walnut table before which the ceremony had taken place. The little + dressmaker was continually turning about in her place, inquiring of the + children if they wanted for anything; inquiries they rarely answered other + than by stare, fixed, ox-like, expressionless. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the little dressmaker turned to Old Grannis and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “I'm so very fond of little children.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, they're very interesting. I'm very fond of them, too.” + </p> + <p> + The next instant both of the old people were overwhelmed with confusion. + What! They had spoken to each other after all these years of silence; they + had for the first time addressed remarks to each other. + </p> + <p> + The old dressmaker was in a torment of embarrassment. How was it she had + come to speak? She had neither planned nor wished it. Suddenly the words + had escaped her, he had answered, and it was all over—over before + they knew it. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis's fingers trembled on the table ledge, his heart beat heavily, + his breath fell short. He had actually talked to the little dressmaker. + That possibility to which he had looked forward, it seemed to him for + years—that companionship, that intimacy with his fellow-lodger, that + delightful acquaintance which was only to ripen at some far distant time, + he could not exactly say when—behold, it had suddenly come to a + head, here in this over-crowded, over-heated room, in the midst of all + this feeding, surrounded by odors of hot dishes, accompanied by the sounds + of incessant mastication. How different he had imagined it would be! They + were to be alone—he and Miss Baker—in the evening somewhere, + withdrawn from the world, very quiet, very calm and peaceful. Their talk + was to be of their lives, their lost illusions, not of other people's + children. + </p> + <p> + The two old people did not speak again. They sat there side by side, + nearer than they had ever been before, motionless, abstracted; their + thoughts far away from that scene of feasting. They were thinking of each + other and they were conscious of it. Timid, with the timidity of their + second childhood, constrained and embarrassed by each other's presence, + they were, nevertheless, in a little Elysium of their own creating. They + walked hand in hand in a delicious garden where it was always autumn; + together and alone they entered upon the long retarded romance of their + commonplace and uneventful lives. + </p> + <p> + At last that great supper was over, everything had been eaten; the + enormous roast goose had dwindled to a very skeleton. Mr. Sieppe had + reduced the calf's head to a mere skull; a row of empty champagne bottles—“dead + soldiers,” as the facetious waiter had called them—lined the + mantelpiece. Nothing of the stewed prunes remained but the juice, which + was given to Owgooste and the twins. The platters were as clean as if they + had been washed; crumbs of bread, potato parings, nutshells, and bits of + cake littered the table; coffee and ice-cream stains and spots of + congealed gravy marked the position of each plate. It was a devastation, a + pillage; the table presented the appearance of an abandoned battlefield. + </p> + <p> + “Ouf,” cried Mrs. Sieppe, pushing back, “I haf eatun und eatun, ach, Gott, + how I haf eatun!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dot kaf's het,” murmured her husband, passing his tongue over his + lips. + </p> + <p> + The facetious waiter had disappeared. He and Maria Macapa foregathered in + the kitchen. They drew up to the washboard of the sink, feasting off the + remnants of the supper, slices of goose, the remains of the lobster salad, + and half a bottle of champagne. They were obliged to drink the latter from + teacups. + </p> + <p> + “Here's how,” said the waiter gallantly, as he raised his tea-cup, bowing + to Maria across the sink. “Hark,” he added, “they're singing inside.” + </p> + <p> + The company had left the table and had assembled about the melodeon, where + Selina was seated. At first they attempted some of the popular songs of + the day, but were obliged to give over as none of them knew any of the + words beyond the first line of the chorus. Finally they pitched upon + “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” as the only song which they all knew. Selina + sang the “alto,” very much off the key; Marcus intoned the bass, scowling + fiercely, his chin drawn into his collar. They sang in very slow time. The + song became a dirge, a lamentable, prolonged wail of distress: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Nee-rah, my Gahd, to Thee, + Nee-rah to Thee-ah.” + </pre> + <p> + At the end of the song, Uncle Oelbermann put on his hat without a word of + warning. Instantly there was a hush. The guests rose. + </p> + <p> + “Not going so soon, Uncle Oelbermann?” protested Trina, politely. He only + nodded. Marcus sprang forward to help him with his overcoat. Mr. Sieppe + came up and the two men shook hands. + </p> + <p> + Then Uncle Oelbermann delivered himself of an oracular phrase. No doubt he + had been meditating it during the supper. Addressing Mr. Sieppe, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You have not lost a daughter, but have gained a son.” + </p> + <p> + These were the only words he had spoken the entire evening. He departed; + the company was profoundly impressed. + </p> + <p> + About twenty minutes later, when Marcus Schouler was entertaining the + guests by eating almonds, shells and all, Mr. Sieppe started to his feet, + watch in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Haf-bast elevun,” he shouted. “Attention! Der dime haf arrive, shtop + eferyting. We depart.” + </p> + <p> + This was a signal for tremendous confusion. Mr. Sieppe immediately threw + off his previous air of relaxation, the calf's head was forgotten, he was + once again the leader of vast enterprises. + </p> + <p> + “To me, to me,” he cried. “Mommer, der tervins, Owgooste.” He marshalled + his tribe together, with tremendous commanding gestures. The sleeping + twins were suddenly shaken into a dazed consciousness; Owgooste, whom the + almond-eating of Marcus Schouler had petrified with admiration, was + smacked to a realization of his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis, with a certain delicacy that was one of his characteristics, + felt instinctively that the guests—the mere outsiders—should + depart before the family began its leave-taking of Trina. He withdrew + unobtrusively, after a hasty good-night to the bride and groom. The rest + followed almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Sieppe,” exclaimed Marcus, “we won't see each other for some + time.” Marcus had given up his first intention of joining in the Sieppe + migration. He spoke in a large way of certain affairs that would keep him + in San Francisco till the fall. Of late he had entertained ambitions of a + ranch life, he would breed cattle, he had a little money and was only + looking for some one “to go in with.” He dreamed of a cowboy's life and + saw himself in an entrancing vision involving silver spurs and untamed + bronchos. He told himself that Trina had cast him off, that his best + friend had “played him for a sucker,” that the “proper caper” was to + withdraw from the world entirely. + </p> + <p> + “If you hear of anybody down there,” he went on, speaking to Mr. Sieppe, + “that wants to go in for ranching, why just let me know.” + </p> + <p> + “Soh, soh,” answered Mr. Sieppe abstractedly, peering about for Owgooste's + cap. + </p> + <p> + Marcus bade the Sieppes farewell. He and Heise went out together. One + heard them, as they descended the stairs, discussing the possibility of + Frenna's place being still open. + </p> + <p> + Then Miss Baker departed after kissing Trina on both cheeks. Selina went + with her. There was only the family left. + </p> + <p> + Trina watched them go, one by one, with an increasing feeling of + uneasiness and vague apprehension. Soon they would all be gone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Trina,” exclaimed Mr. Sieppe, “goot-py; perhaps you gome visit us + somedime.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sieppe began crying again. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, Trina, ven shall I efer see you again?” + </p> + <p> + Tears came to Trina's eyes in spite of herself. She put her arms around + her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sometime, sometime,” she cried. The twins and Owgooste clung to + Trina's skirts, fretting and whimpering. + </p> + <p> + McTeague was miserable. He stood apart from the group, in a corner. None + of them seemed to think of him; he was not of them. + </p> + <p> + “Write to me very often, mamma, and tell me about everything—about + August and the twins.” + </p> + <p> + “It is dime,” cried Mr. Sieppe, nervously. “Goot-py, Trina. Mommer, + Owgooste, say goot-py, den we must go. Goot-py, Trina.” He kissed her. + Owgooste and the twins were lifted up. “Gome, gome,” insisted Mr. Sieppe, + moving toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Goot-py, Trina,” exclaimed Mrs. Sieppe, crying harder than ever. “Doktor—where + is der doktor—Doktor, pe goot to her, eh? pe vairy goot, eh, won't + you? Zum day, Dokter, you vill haf a daughter, den you know berhaps how I + feel, yes.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing at the door by this time. Mr. Sieppe, half way down the + stairs, kept calling “Gome, gome, we miss der drain.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sieppe released Trina and started down the hall, the twins and + Owgooste following. Trina stood in the doorway, looking after them through + her tears. They were going, going. When would she ever see them again? She + was to be left alone with this man to whom she had just been married. A + sudden vague terror seized her; she left McTeague and ran down the hall + and caught her mother around the neck. + </p> + <p> + “I don't WANT you to go,” she whispered in her mother's ear, sobbing. “Oh, + mamma, I—I'm 'fraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Ach, Trina, you preak my heart. Don't gry, poor leetle girl.” She rocked + Trina in her arms as though she were a child again. “Poor leetle scairt + girl, don' gry—soh—soh—soh, dere's nuttun to pe 'fraid + oaf. Dere, go to your hoasban'. Listen, popper's galling again; go den; + goot-by.” + </p> + <p> + She loosened Trina's arms and started down the stairs. Trina leaned over + the banisters, straining her eyes after her mother. + </p> + <p> + “What is ut, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good-by, good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Gome, gome, we miss der drain.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, oh, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “What is ut, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Goot-py, leetle daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, good-by, good-by.” + </p> + <p> + The street door closed. The silence was profound. + </p> + <p> + For another moment Trina stood leaning over the banisters, looking down + into the empty stairway. It was dark. There was nobody. They—her + father, her mother, the children—had left her, left her alone. She + faced about toward the rooms—faced her husband, faced her new home, + the new life that was to begin now. + </p> + <p> + The hall was empty and deserted. The great flat around her seemed new and + huge and strange; she felt horribly alone. Even Maria and the hired waiter + were gone. On one of the floors above she heard a baby crying. She stood + there an instant in the dark hall, in her wedding finery, looking about + her, listening. From the open door of the sitting-room streamed a gold bar + of light. + </p> + <p> + She went down the hall, by the open door of the sitting-room, going on + toward the hall door of the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + As she softly passed the sitting-room she glanced hastily in. The lamps + and the gas were burning brightly, the chairs were pushed back from the + table just as the guests had left them, and the table itself, abandoned, + deserted, presented to view the vague confusion of its dishes, its knives + and forks, its empty platters and crumpled napkins. The dentist sat there + leaning on his elbows, his back toward her; against the white blur of the + table he looked colossal. Above his giant shoulders rose his thick, red + neck and mane of yellow hair. The light shone pink through the gristle of + his enormous ears. + </p> + <p> + Trina entered the bedroom, closing the door after her. At the sound, she + heard McTeague start and rise. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer; but paused in the middle of the room, holding her + breath, trembling. + </p> + <p> + The dentist crossed the outside room, parted the chenille portieres, and + came in. He came toward her quickly, making as if to take her in his arms. + His eyes were alight. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Trina, shrinking from him. Suddenly seized with the fear + of him—the intuitive feminine fear of the male—her whole being + quailed before him. She was terrified at his huge, square-cut head; his + powerful, salient jaw; his huge, red hands; his enormous, resistless + strength. + </p> + <p> + “No, no—I'm afraid,” she cried, drawing back from him to the other + side of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid?” answered the dentist in perplexity. “What are you afraid of, + Trina? I'm not going to hurt you. What are you afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + What, indeed, was Trina afraid of? She could not tell. But what did she + know of McTeague, after all? Who was this man that had come into her life, + who had taken her from her home and from her parents, and with whom she + was now left alone here in this strange, vast flat? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm afraid. I'm afraid,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + McTeague came nearer, sat down beside her and put one arm around her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you afraid of, Trina?” he said, reassuringly. “I don't want to + frighten you.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him wildly, her adorable little chin quivering, the tears + brimming in her narrow blue eyes. Then her glance took on a certain + intentness, and she peered curiously into his face, saying almost in a + whisper: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid of YOU.” + </p> + <p> + But the dentist did not heed her. An immense joy seized upon him—the + joy of possession. Trina was his very own now. She lay there in the hollow + of his arm, helpless and very pretty. + </p> + <p> + Those instincts that in him were so close to the surface suddenly leaped + to life, shouting and clamoring, not to be resisted. He loved her. Ah, did + he not love her? The smell of her hair, of her neck, rose to him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he caught her in both his huge arms, crushing down her struggle + with his immense strength, kissing her full upon the mouth. Then her great + love for McTeague suddenly flashed up in Trina's breast; she gave up to + him as she had done before, yielding all at once to that strange desire of + being conquered and subdued. She clung to him, her hands clasped behind + his neck, whispering in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must be good to me—very, very good to me, dear—for + you're all that I have in the world now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10 + </h2> + <p> + That summer passed, then the winter. The wet season began in the last days + of September and continued all through October, November, and December. At + long intervals would come a week of perfect days, the sky without a cloud, + the air motionless, but touched with a certain nimbleness, a faint + effervescence that was exhilarating. Then, without warning, during a night + when a south wind blew, a gray scroll of cloud would unroll and hang high + over the city, and the rain would come pattering down again, at first in + scattered showers, then in an uninterrupted drizzle. + </p> + <p> + All day long Trina sat in the bay window of the sitting-room that + commanded a view of a small section of Polk Street. As often as she raised + her head she could see the big market, a confectionery store, a + bell-hanger's shop, and, farther on, above the roofs, the glass skylights + and water tanks of the big public baths. In the nearer foreground ran the + street itself; the cable cars trundled up and down, thumping heavily over + the joints of the rails; market carts by the score came and went, driven + at a great rate by preoccupied young men in their shirt sleeves, with + pencils behind their ears, or by reckless boys in blood-stained butcher's + aprons. Upon the sidewalks the little world of Polk Street swarmed and + jostled through its daily round of life. On fine days the great ladies + from the avenue, one block above, invaded the street, appearing before the + butcher stalls, intent upon their day's marketing. On rainy days their + servants—the Chinese cooks or the second girls—took their + places. These servants gave themselves great airs, carrying their big + cotton umbrellas as they had seen their mistresses carry their parasols, + and haggling in supercilious fashion with the market men, their chins in + the air. + </p> + <p> + The rain persisted. Everything in the range of Trina's vision, from the + tarpaulins on the market-cart horses to the panes of glass in the roof of + the public baths, looked glazed and varnished. The asphalt of the + sidewalks shone like the surface of a patent leather boot; every hollow in + the street held its little puddle, that winked like an eye each time a + drop of rain struck into it. + </p> + <p> + Trina still continued to work for Uncle Oelbermann. In the mornings she + busied herself about the kitchen, the bedroom, and the sitting-room; but + in the afternoon, for two or three hours after lunch, she was occupied + with the Noah's ark animals. She took her work to the bay window, + spreading out a great square of canvas underneath her chair, to catch the + chips and shavings, which she used afterwards for lighting fires. One + after another she caught up the little blocks of straight-grained pine, + the knife flashed between her fingers, the little figure grew rapidly + under her touch, was finished and ready for painting in a wonderfully + short time, and was tossed into the basket that stood at her elbow. + </p> + <p> + But very often during that rainy winter after her marriage Trina would + pause in her work, her hands falling idly into her lap, her eyes—her + narrow, pale blue eyes—growing wide and thoughtful as she gazed, + unseeing, out into the rain-washed street. + </p> + <p> + She loved McTeague now with a blind, unreasoning love that admitted of no + doubt or hesitancy. Indeed, it seemed to her that it was only AFTER her + marriage with the dentist that she had really begun to love him. With the + absolute final surrender of herself, the irrevocable, ultimate submission, + had come an affection the like of which she had never dreamed in the old B + Street days. But Trina loved her husband, not because she fancied she saw + in him any of those noble and generous qualities that inspire affection. + The dentist might or might not possess them, it was all one with Trina. + She loved him because she had given herself to him freely, unreservedly; + had merged her individuality into his; she was his, she belonged to him + forever and forever. Nothing that he could do (so she told herself), + nothing that she herself could do, could change her in this respect. + McTeague might cease to love her, might leave her, might even die; it + would be all the same, SHE WAS HIS. + </p> + <p> + But it had not been so at first. During those long, rainy days of the + fall, days when Trina was left alone for hours, at that time when the + excitement and novelty of the honeymoon were dying down, when the new + household was settling into its grooves, she passed through many an hour + of misgiving, of doubt, and even of actual regret. + </p> + <p> + Never would she forget one Sunday afternoon in particular. She had been + married but three weeks. After dinner she and little Miss Baker had gone + for a bit of a walk to take advantage of an hour's sunshine and to look at + some wonderful geraniums in a florist's window on Sutter Street. They had + been caught in a shower, and on returning to the flat the little + dressmaker had insisted on fetching Trina up to her tiny room and brewing + her a cup of strong tea, “to take the chill off.” The two women had + chatted over their teacups the better part of the afternoon, then Trina + had returned to her rooms. For nearly three hours McTeague had been out of + her thoughts, and as she came through their little suite, singing softly + to herself, she suddenly came upon him quite unexpectedly. Her husband was + in the “Dental Parlors,” lying back in his operating chair, fast asleep. + The little stove was crammed with coke, the room was overheated, the air + thick and foul with the odors of ether, of coke gas, of stale beer and + cheap tobacco. The dentist sprawled his gigantic limbs over the worn + velvet of the operating chair; his coat and vest and shoes were off, and + his huge feet, in their thick gray socks, dangled over the edge of the + foot-rest; his pipe, fallen from his half-open mouth, had spilled the + ashes into his lap; while on the floor, at his side stood the half-empty + pitcher of steam beer. His head had rolled limply upon one shoulder, his + face was red with sleep, and from his open mouth came a terrific sound of + snoring. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Trina stood looking at him as he lay thus, prone, inert, + half-dressed, and stupefied with the heat of the room, the steam beer, and + the fumes of the cheap tobacco. Then her little chin quivered and a sob + rose to her throat; she fled from the “Parlors,” and locking herself in + her bedroom, flung herself on the bed and burst into an agony of weeping. + Ah, no, ah, no, she could not love him. It had all been a dreadful + mistake, and now it was irrevocable; she was bound to this man for life. + If it was as bad as this now, only three weeks after her marriage, how + would it be in the years to come? Year after year, month after month, hour + after hour, she was to see this same face, with its salient jaw, was to + feel the touch of those enormous red hands, was to hear the heavy, + elephantine tread of those huge feet—in thick gray socks. Year after + year, day after day, there would be no change, and it would last all her + life. Either it would be one long continued revulsion, or else—worse + than all—she would come to be content with him, would come to be + like him, would sink to the level of steam beer and cheap tobacco, and all + her pretty ways, her clean, trim little habits, would be forgotten, since + they would be thrown away upon her stupid, brutish husband. “Her husband!” + THAT, was her husband in there—she could yet hear his snores—for + life, for life. A great despair seized upon her. She buried her face in + the pillow and thought of her mother with an infinite longing. + </p> + <p> + Aroused at length by the chittering of the canary, McTeague had awakened + slowly. After a while he had taken down his concertina and played upon it + the six very mournful airs that he knew. + </p> + <p> + Face downward upon the bed, Trina still wept. Throughout that little suite + could be heard but two sounds, the lugubrious strains of the concertina + and the noise of stifled weeping. + </p> + <p> + That her husband should be ignorant of her distress seemed to Trina an + additional grievance. With perverse inconsistency she began to wish him to + come to her, to comfort her. He ought to know that she was in trouble, + that she was lonely and unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac,” she called in a trembling voice. But the concertina still + continued to wail and lament. Then Trina wished she were dead, and on the + instant jumped up and ran into the “Dental Parlors,” and threw herself + into her husband's arms, crying: “Oh, Mac, dear, love me, love me big! I'm + so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what—what—” the dentist exclaimed, starting up + bewildered, a little frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing, only LOVE me, love me always and always.” + </p> + <p> + But this first crisis, this momentary revolt, as much a matter of + high-strung feminine nerves as of anything else, passed, and in the end + Trina's affection for her “old bear” grew in spite of herself. She began + to love him more and more, not for what he was, but for what she had given + up to him. Only once again did Trina undergo a reaction against her + husband, and then it was but the matter of an instant, brought on, + curiously enough, by the sight of a bit of egg on McTeague's heavy + mustache one morning just after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Then, too, the pair had learned to make concessions, little by little, and + all unconsciously they adapted their modes of life to suit each other. + Instead of sinking to McTeague's level as she had feared, Trina found that + she could make McTeague rise to hers, and in this saw a solution of many a + difficult and gloomy complication. + </p> + <p> + For one thing, the dentist began to dress a little better, Trina even + succeeding in inducing him to wear a high silk hat and a frock coat of a + Sunday. Next he relinquished his Sunday afternoon's nap and beer in favor + of three or four hours spent in the park with her—the weather + permitting. So that gradually Trina's misgivings ceased, or when they did + assail her, she could at last meet them with a shrug of the shoulders, + saying to herself meanwhile, “Well, it's done now and it can't be helped; + one must make the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + During the first months of their married life these nervous relapses of + hers had alternated with brusque outbursts of affection when her only fear + was that her husband's love did not equal her own. Without an instant's + warning, she would clasp him about the neck, rubbing her cheek against + his, murmuring: + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Mac, I love you so, I love you so. Oh, aren't we happy together, + Mac, just us two and no one else? You love me as much as I love you, don't + you, Mac? Oh, if you shouldn't—if you SHOULDN'T.” + </p> + <p> + But by the middle of the winter Trina's emotions, oscillating at first + from one extreme to another, commenced to settle themselves to an + equilibrium of calmness and placid quietude. Her household duties began + more and more to absorb her attention, for she was an admirable + housekeeper, keeping the little suite in marvellous good order and + regulating the schedule of expenditure with an economy that often bordered + on positive niggardliness. It was a passion with her to save money. In the + bottom of her trunk, in the bedroom, she hid a brass match-safe that + answered the purposes of a savings bank. Each time she added a quarter or + a half dollar to the little store she laughed and sang with a veritable + childish delight; whereas, if the butcher or milkman compelled her to pay + an overcharge she was unhappy for the rest of the day. She did not save + this money for any ulterior purpose, she hoarded instinctively, without + knowing why, responding to the dentist's remonstrances with: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know I'm a little miser, I know it.” + </p> + <p> + Trina had always been an economical little body, but it was only since her + great winning in the lottery that she had become especially penurious. No + doubt, in her fear lest their great good luck should demoralize them and + lead to habits of extravagance, she had recoiled too far in the other + direction. Never, never, never should a penny of that miraculous fortune + be spent; rather should it be added to. It was a nest egg, a monstrous, + roc-like nest egg, not so large, however, but that it could be made + larger. Already by the end of that winter Trina had begun to make up the + deficit of two hundred dollars that she had been forced to expend on the + preparations for her marriage. + </p> + <p> + McTeague, on his part, never asked himself now-a-days whether he loved + Trina the wife as much as he had loved Trina the young girl. There had + been a time when to kiss Trina, to take her in his arms, had thrilled him + from head to heel with a happiness that was beyond words; even the smell + of her wonderful odorous hair had sent a sensation of faintness all + through him. That time was long past now. Those sudden outbursts of + affection on the part of his little woman, outbursts that only increased + in vehemence the longer they lived together, puzzled rather than pleased + him. He had come to submit to them good-naturedly, answering her + passionate inquiries with a “Sure, sure, Trina, sure I love you. What—what's + the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + There was no passion in the dentist's regard for his wife. He dearly liked + to have her near him, he took an enormous pleasure in watching her as she + moved about their rooms, very much at home, gay and singing from morning + till night; and it was his great delight to call her into the “Dental + Parlors” when a patient was in the chair and, while he held the plugger, + to have her rap in the gold fillings with the little box-wood mallet as he + had taught her. But that tempest of passion, that overpowering desire that + had suddenly taken possession of him that day when he had given her ether, + again when he had caught her in his arms in the B Street station, and + again and again during the early days of their married life, rarely + stirred him now. On the other hand, he was never assailed with doubts as + to the wisdom of his marriage. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had relapsed to his wonted stolidity. He never questioned + himself, never looked for motives, never went to the bottom of things. The + year following upon the summer of his marriage was a time of great + contentment for him; after the novelty of the honeymoon had passed he + slipped easily into the new order of things without a question. Thus his + life would be for years to come. Trina was there; he was married and + settled. He accepted the situation. The little animal comforts which for + him constituted the enjoyment of life were ministered to at every turn, or + when they were interfered with—as in the case of his Sunday + afternoon's nap and beer—some agreeable substitute was found. In her + attempts to improve McTeague—to raise him from the stupid animal + life to which he had been accustomed in his bachelor days—Trina was + tactful enough to move so cautiously and with such slowness that the + dentist was unconscious of any process of change. In the matter of the + high silk hat, it seemed to him that the initiative had come from himself. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the dentist improved under the influence of his little wife. He + no longer went abroad with frayed cuffs about his huge red wrists—or + worse, without any cuffs at all. Trina kept his linen clean and mended, + doing most of his washing herself, and insisting that he should change his + flannels—thick red flannels they were, with enormous bone buttons—once + a week, his linen shirts twice a week, and his collars and cuffs every + second day. She broke him of the habit of eating with his knife, she + caused him to substitute bottled beer in the place of steam beer, and she + induced him to take off his hat to Miss Baker, to Heise's wife, and to the + other women of his acquaintance. McTeague no longer spent an evening at + Frenna's. Instead of this he brought a couple of bottles of beer up to the + rooms and shared it with Trina. In his “Parlors” he was no longer gruff + and indifferent to his female patients; he arrived at that stage where he + could work and talk to them at the same time; he even accompanied them to + the door, and held it open for them when the operation was finished, + bowing them out with great nods of his huge square-cut head. + </p> + <p> + Besides all this, he began to observe the broader, larger interests of + life, interests that affected him not as an individual, but as a member of + a class, a profession, or a political party. He read the papers, he + subscribed to a dental magazine; on Easter, Christmas, and New Year's he + went to church with Trina. He commenced to have opinions, convictions—it + was not fair to deprive tax-paying women of the privilege to vote; a + university education should not be a prerequisite for admission to a + dental college; the Catholic priests were to be restrained in their + efforts to gain control of the public schools. + </p> + <p> + But most wonderful of all, McTeague began to have ambitions—very + vague, very confused ideas of something better—ideas for the most + part borrowed from Trina. Some day, perhaps, he and his wife would have a + house of their own. What a dream! A little home all to themselves, with + six rooms and a bath, with a grass plat in front and calla-lilies. Then + there would be children. He would have a son, whose name would be Daniel, + who would go to High School, and perhaps turn out to be a prosperous + plumber or house painter. Then this son Daniel would marry a wife, and + they would all live together in that six-room-and-bath house; Daniel would + have little children. McTeague would grow old among them all. The dentist + saw himself as a venerable patriarch surrounded by children and + grandchildren. + </p> + <p> + So the winter passed. It was a season of great happiness for the + McTeagues; the new life jostled itself into its grooves. A routine began. + </p> + <p> + On weekdays they rose at half-past six, being awakened by the boy who + brought the bottled milk, and who had instructions to pound upon the + bedroom door in passing. Trina made breakfast—coffee, bacon and + eggs, and a roll of Vienna bread from the bakery. The breakfast was eaten + in the kitchen, on the round deal table covered with the shiny oilcloth + table-spread tacked on. After breakfast the dentist immediately betook + himself to his “Parlors” to meet his early morning appointments—those + made with the clerks and shop girls who stopped in for half an hour on + their way to their work. + </p> + <p> + Trina, meanwhile, busied herself about the suite, clearing away the + breakfast, sponging off the oilcloth table-spread, making the bed, + pottering about with a broom or duster or cleaning rag. Towards ten + o'clock she opened the windows to air the rooms, then put on her drab + jacket, her little round turban with its red wing, took the butcher's and + grocer's books from the knife basket in the drawer of the kitchen table, + and descended to the street, where she spent a delicious hour—now in + the huge market across the way, now in the grocer's store with its + fragrant aroma of coffee and spices, and now before the counters of the + haberdasher's, intent on a bit of shopping, turning over ends of veiling, + strips of elastic, or slivers of whalebone. On the street she rubbed + elbows with the great ladies of the avenue in their beautiful dresses, or + at intervals she met an acquaintance or two—Miss Baker, or Heise's + lame wife, or Mrs. Ryer. At times she passed the flat and looked up at the + windows of her home, marked by the huge golden molar that projected, + flashing, from the bay window of the “Parlors.” She saw the open windows + of the sitting-room, the Nottingham lace curtains stirring and billowing + in the draft, and she caught sight of Maria Macapa's towelled head as the + Mexican maid-of-all-work went to and fro in the suite, sweeping or + carrying away the ashes. Occasionally in the windows of the “Parlors” she + beheld McTeague's rounded back as he bent to his work. Sometimes, even, + they saw each other and waved their hands gayly in recognition. + </p> + <p> + By eleven o'clock Trina returned to the flat, her brown net reticule—once + her mother's—full of parcels. At once she set about getting lunch—sausages, + perhaps, with mashed potatoes; or last evening's joint warmed over or made + into a stew; chocolate, which Trina adored, and a side dish or two—a + salted herring or a couple of artichokes or a salad. At half-past twelve + the dentist came in from the “Parlors,” bringing with him the smell of + creosote and of ether. They sat down to lunch in the sitting-room. They + told each other of their doings throughout the forenoon; Trina showed her + purchases, McTeague recounted the progress of an operation. At one o'clock + they separated, the dentist returning to the “Parlors,” Trina settling to + her work on the Noah's ark animals. At about three o'clock she put this + work away, and for the rest of the afternoon was variously occupied—sometimes + it was the mending, sometimes the wash, sometimes new curtains to be put + up, or a bit of carpet to be tacked down, or a letter to be written, or a + visit—generally to Miss Baker—to be returned. Towards five + o'clock the old woman whom they had hired for that purpose came to cook + supper, for even Trina was not equal to the task of preparing three meals + a day. + </p> + <p> + This woman was French, and was known to the flat as Augustine, no one + taking enough interest in her to inquire for her last name; all that was + known of her was that she was a decayed French laundress, miserably poor, + her trade long since ruined by Chinese competition. Augustine cooked well, + but she was otherwise undesirable, and Trina lost patience with her at + every moment. The old French woman's most marked characteristic was her + timidity. Trina could scarcely address her a simple direction without + Augustine quailing and shrinking; a reproof, however gentle, threw her + into an agony of confusion; while Trina's anger promptly reduced her to a + state of nervous collapse, wherein she lost all power of speech, while her + head began to bob and nod with an incontrollable twitching of the muscles, + much like the oscillations of the head of a toy donkey. Her timidity was + exasperating, her very presence in the room unstrung the nerves, while her + morbid eagerness to avoid offence only served to develop in her a + clumsiness that was at times beyond belief. More than once Trina had + decided that she could no longer put up with Augustine but each time she + had retained her as she reflected upon her admirably cooked cabbage soups + and tapioca puddings, and—which in Trina's eyes was her chiefest + recommendation—the pittance for which she was contented to work. + </p> + <p> + Augustine had a husband. He was a spirit-medium—a “professor.” At + times he held seances in the larger rooms of the flat, playing vigorously + upon a mouth-organ and invoking a familiar whom he called “Edna,” and whom + he asserted was an Indian maiden. + </p> + <p> + The evening was a period of relaxation for Trina and McTeague. They had + supper at six, after which McTeague smoked his pipe and read the papers + for half an hour, while Trina and Augustine cleared away the table and + washed the dishes. Then, as often as not, they went out together. One of + their amusements was to go “down town” after dark and promenade Market and + Kearney Streets. It was very gay; a great many others were promenading + there also. All of the stores were brilliantly lighted and many of them + still open. They walked about aimlessly, looking into the shop windows. + Trina would take McTeague's arm, and he, very much embarrassed at that, + would thrust both hands into his pockets and pretend not to notice. They + stopped before the jewellers' and milliners' windows, finding a great + delight in picking out things for each other, saying how they would choose + this and that if they were rich. Trina did most of the talking. McTeague + merely approving by a growl or a movement of the head or shoulders; she + was interested in the displays of some of the cheaper stores, but he found + an irresistible charm in an enormous golden molar with four prongs that + hung at a corner of Kearney Street. Sometimes they would look at Mars or + at the moon through the street telescopes or sit for a time in the rotunda + of a vast department store where a band played every evening. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally they met Heise the harness-maker and his wife, with whom they + had become acquainted. Then the evening was concluded by a four-cornered + party in the Luxembourg, a quiet German restaurant under a theatre. Trina + had a tamale and a glass of beer, Mrs. Heise (who was a decayed writing + teacher) ate salads, with glasses of grenadine and currant syrups. Heise + drank cocktails and whiskey straight, and urged the dentist to join him. + But McTeague was obstinate, shaking his head. “I can't drink that stuff,” + he said. “It don't agree with me, somehow; I go kinda crazy after two + glasses.” So he gorged himself with beer and frankfurter sausages + plastered with German mustard. + </p> + <p> + When the annual Mechanic's Fair opened, McTeague and Trina often spent + their evenings there, studying the exhibits carefully (since in Trina's + estimation education meant knowing things and being able to talk about + them). Wearying of this they would go up into the gallery, and, leaning + over, look down into the huge amphitheatre full of light and color and + movement. + </p> + <p> + There rose to them the vast shuffling noise of thousands of feet and a + subdued roar of conversation like the sound of a great mill. Mingled with + this was the purring of distant machinery, the splashing of a temporary + fountain, and the rhythmic jangling of a brass band, while in the piano + exhibit a hired performer was playing upon a concert grand with a great + flourish. Nearer at hand they could catch ends of conversation and notes + of laughter, the noise of moving dresses, and the rustle of stiffly + starched skirts. Here and there school children elbowed their way through + the crowd, crying shrilly, their hands full of advertisement pamphlets, + fans, picture cards, and toy whips, while the air itself was full of the + smell of fresh popcorn. + </p> + <p> + They even spent some time in the art gallery. Trina's cousin Selina, who + gave lessons in hand painting at two bits an hour, generally had an + exhibit on the walls, which they were interested to find. It usually was a + bunch of yellow poppies painted on black velvet and framed in gilt. They + stood before it some little time, hazarding their opinions, and then moved + on slowly from one picture to another. Trina had McTeague buy a catalogue + and made a duty of finding the title of every picture. This, too, she told + McTeague, as a kind of education one ought to cultivate. Trina professed + to be fond of art, having perhaps acquired a taste for painting and + sculpture from her experience with the Noah's ark animals. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she told the dentist, “I'm no critic, I only know what I + like.” She knew that she liked the “Ideal Heads,” lovely girls with + flowing straw-colored hair and immense, upturned eyes. These always had + for title, “Reverie,” or “An Idyll,” or “Dreams of Love.” + </p> + <p> + “I think those are lovely, don't you, Mac?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” answered McTeague, nodding his head, bewildered, trying to + understand. “Yes, yes, lovely, that's the word. Are you dead sure now, + Trina, that all that's hand-painted just like the poppies?” + </p> + <p> + Thus the winter passed, a year went by, then two. The little life of Polk + Street, the life of small traders, drug clerks, grocers, stationers, + plumbers, dentists, doctors, spirit-mediums, and the like, ran on + monotonously in its accustomed grooves. The first three years of their + married life wrought little change in the fortunes of the McTeagues. In + the third summer the branch post-office was moved from the ground floor of + the flat to a corner farther up the street in order to be near the cable + line that ran mail cars. Its place was taken by a German saloon, called a + “Wein Stube,” in the face of the protests of every female lodger. A few + months later quite a little flurry of excitement ran through the street on + the occasion of “The Polk Street Open Air Festival,” organized to + celebrate the introduction there of electric lights. The festival lasted + three days and was quite an affair. The street was garlanded with yellow + and white bunting; there were processions and “floats” and brass bands. + Marcus Schouler was in his element during the whole time of the + celebration. He was one of the marshals of the parade, and was to be seen + at every hour of the day, wearing a borrowed high hat and cotton gloves, + and galloping a broken-down cab-horse over the cobbles. He carried a baton + covered with yellow and white calico, with which he made furious passes + and gestures. His voice was soon reduced to a whisper by continued + shouting, and he raged and fretted over trifles till he wore himself thin. + McTeague was disgusted with him. As often as Marcus passed the window of + the flat the dentist would mutter: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you think you're smart, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + The result of the festival was the organizing of a body known as the “Polk + Street Improvement Club,” of which Marcus was elected secretary. McTeague + and Trina often heard of him in this capacity through Heise the + harness-maker. Marcus had evidently come to have political aspirations. It + appeared that he was gaining a reputation as a maker of speeches, + delivered with fiery emphasis, and occasionally reprinted in the + “Progress,” the organ of the club—“outraged constituencies,” + “opinions warped by personal bias,” “eyes blinded by party prejudice,” + etc. + </p> + <p> + Of her family, Trina heard every fortnight in letters from her mother. The + upholstery business which Mr. Sieppe had bought was doing poorly, and Mrs. + Sieppe bewailed the day she had ever left B Street. Mr. Sieppe was losing + money every month. Owgooste, who was to have gone to school, had been + forced to go to work in “the store,” picking waste. Mrs. Sieppe was + obliged to take a lodger or two. Affairs were in a very bad way. + Occasionally she spoke of Marcus. Mr. Sieppe had not forgotten him despite + his own troubles, but still had an eye out for some one whom Marcus could + “go in with” on a ranch. + </p> + <p> + It was toward the end of this period of three years that Trina and + McTeague had their first serious quarrel. Trina had talked so much about + having a little house of their own at some future day, that McTeague had + at length come to regard the affair as the end and object of all their + labors. For a long time they had had their eyes upon one house in + particular. It was situated on a cross street close by, between Polk Street + and the great avenue one block above, and hardly a Sunday afternoon passed + that Trina and McTeague did not go and look at it. They stood for fully + half an hour upon the other side of the street, examining every detail of + its exterior, hazarding guesses as to the arrangement of the rooms, + commenting upon its immediate neighborhood—which was rather sordid. + The house was a wooden two-story arrangement, built by a misguided + contractor in a sort of hideous Queen Anne style, all scrolls and + meaningless mill work, with a cheap imitation of stained glass in the + light over the door. There was a microscopic front yard full of dusty + calla-lilies. The front door boasted an electric bell. But for the + McTeagues it was an ideal home. Their idea was to live in this little + house, the dentist retaining merely his office in the flat. The two places + were but around the corner from each other, so that McTeague could lunch + with his wife, as usual, and could even keep his early morning + appointments and return to breakfast if he so desired. + </p> + <p> + However, the house was occupied. A Hungarian family lived in it. The + father kept a stationery and notion “bazaar” next to Heise's harness-shop + on Polk Street, while the oldest son played a third violin in the + orchestra of a theatre. The family rented the house unfurnished for + thirty-five dollars, paying extra for the water. + </p> + <p> + But one Sunday as Trina and McTeague on their way home from their usual + walk turned into the cross street on which the little house was situated, + they became promptly aware of an unwonted bustle going on upon the + sidewalk in front of it. A dray was back against the curb, an express + wagon drove away loaded with furniture; bedsteads, looking-glasses, and + washbowls littered the sidewalks. The Hungarian family were moving out. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac, look!” gasped Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” muttered the dentist. + </p> + <p> + After that they spoke but little. For upwards of an hour the two stood + upon the sidewalk opposite, watching intently all that went forward, + absorbed, excited. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of the next day they returned and visited the house, + finding a great delight in going from room to room and imagining + themselves installed therein. Here would be the bedroom, here the + dining-room, here a charming little parlor. As they came out upon the + front steps once more they met the owner, an enormous, red-faced fellow, + so fat that his walking seemed merely a certain movement of his feet by + which he pushed his stomach along in front of him. Trina talked with him a + few moments, but arrived at no understanding, and the two went away after + giving him their address. At supper that night McTeague said: + </p> + <p> + “Huh—what do you think, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + Trina put her chin in the air, tilting back her heavy tiara of swarthy + hair. + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure yet. Thirty-five dollars and the water extra. I don't + think we can afford it, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, pshaw!” growled the dentist, “sure we can.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't only that,” said Trina, “but it'll cost so much to make the + change.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you talk's though we were paupers. Ain't we got five thousand + dollars?” + </p> + <p> + Trina flushed on the instant, even to the lobes of her tiny pale ears, and + put her lips together. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mac, you know I don't want you should talk like that. That money's + never, never to be touched.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've been savun up a good deal, besides,” went on McTeague, + exasperated at Trina's persistent economies. “How much money have you got + in that little brass match-safe in the bottom of your trunk? Pretty near a + hundred dollars, I guess—ah, sure.” He shut his eyes and nodded his + great head in a knowing way. + </p> + <p> + Trina had more than that in the brass match-safe in question, but her + instinct of hoarding had led her to keep it a secret from her husband. Now + she lied to him with prompt fluency. + </p> + <p> + “A hundred dollars! What are you talking of, Mac? I've not got fifty. I've + not got THIRTY.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, let's take that little house,” broke in McTeague. “We got the chance + now, and it may never come again. Come on, Trina, shall we? Say, come on, + shall we, huh?” + </p> + <p> + “We'd have to be awful saving if we did, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sure, I say let's take it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Trina, hesitating. “Wouldn't it be lovely to have a + house all to ourselves? But let's not decide until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the owner of the house called. Trina was out at her morning's + marketing and the dentist, who had no one in the chair at the time, + received him in the “Parlors.” Before he was well aware of it, McTeague + had concluded the bargain. The owner bewildered him with a world of + phrases, made him believe that it would be a great saving to move into the + little house, and finally offered it to him “water free.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right,” said McTeague, “I'll take it.” + </p> + <p> + The other immediately produced a paper. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, suppose you sign for the first month's rent, and we'll call + it a bargain. That's business, you know,” and McTeague, hesitating, + signed. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have talked more with my wife about it first,” he said, + dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” answered the owner, easily. “I guess if the head + of the family wants a thing, that's enough.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague could not wait until lunch time to tell the news to Trina. As + soon as he heard her come in, he laid down the plaster-of-paris mould he + was making and went out into the kitchen and found her chopping up onions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Trina,” he said, “we got that house. I've taken it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she answered, quickly. The dentist told her. + </p> + <p> + “And you signed a paper for the first month's rent?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure. That's business, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why did you DO it?” cried Trina. “You might have asked ME something + about it. Now, what have you done? I was talking with Mrs. Ryer about that + house while I was out this morning, and she said the Hungarians moved out + because it was absolutely unhealthy; there's water been standing in the + basement for months. And she told me, too,” Trina went on indignantly, + “that she knew the owner, and she was sure we could get the house for + thirty if we'd bargain for it. Now what have you gone and done? I hadn't + made up my mind about taking the house at all. And now I WON'T take it, + with the water in the basement and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well,” stammered McTeague, helplessly, “we needn't go in if + it's unhealthy.” + </p> + <p> + “But you've signed a PAPER,” cried Trina, exasperated. “You've got to pay + that first month's rent, anyhow—to forfeit it. Oh, you are so + stupid! There's thirty-five dollars just thrown away. I SHAN'T go into + that house; we won't move a FOOT out of here. I've changed my mind about + it, and there's water in the basement besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess we can stand thirty-five dollars,” mumbled the dentist, “if + we've got to.” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty-five dollars just thrown out of the window,” cried Trina, her + teeth clicking, every instinct of her parsimony aroused. “Oh, you the + thick-wittedest man that I ever knew. Do you think we're millionaires? Oh, + to think of losing thirty-five dollars like that.” Tears were in her eyes, + tears of grief as well as of anger. Never had McTeague seen his little + woman so aroused. Suddenly she rose to her feet and slammed the + chopping-bowl down upon the table. “Well, I won't pay a nickel of it,” she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What, what?” stammered the dentist, taken all aback by her outburst. + </p> + <p> + “I say that you will find that money, that thirty-five dollars, yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why——” + </p> + <p> + “It's your stupidity got us into this fix, and you'll be the one that'll + suffer by it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do it, I WON'T do it. We'll—we'll share and share alike. + Why, you said—you told me you'd take the house if the water was + free.” + </p> + <p> + “I NEVER did. I NEVER did. How can you stand there and say such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “You did tell me that,” vociferated McTeague, beginning to get angry in + his turn. + </p> + <p> + “Mac, I didn't, and you know it. And what's more, I won't pay a nickel. + Mr. Heise pays his bill next week, it's forty-three dollars, and you can + just pay the thirty-five out of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you got a whole hundred dollars saved up in your match-safe,” + shouted the dentist, throwing out an arm with an awkward gesture. “You pay + half and I'll pay half, that's only fair.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, NO,” exclaimed Trina. “It's not a hundred dollars. You won't + touch it; you won't touch my money, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how does it happen to be yours, I'd like to know?” + </p> + <p> + “It's mine! It's mine! It's mine!” cried Trina, her face scarlet, her + teeth clicking like the snap of a closing purse. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't any more yours than it is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Every penny of it is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what a fine fix you'd get me into,” growled the dentist. “I've signed + the paper with the owner; that's business, you know, that's business, you + know; and now you go back on me. Suppose we'd taken the house, we'd 'a' + shared the rent, wouldn't we, just as we do here?” + </p> + <p> + Trina shrugged her shoulders with a great affectation of indifference and + began chopping the onions again. + </p> + <p> + “You settle it with the owner,” she said. “It's your affair; you've got + the money.” She pretended to assume a certain calmness as though the + matter was something that no longer affected her. Her manner exasperated + McTeague all the more. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won't; no, I won't; I won't either,” he shouted. “I'll pay my half + and he can come to you for the other half.” Trina put a hand over her ear + to shut out his clamor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don't try and be smart,” cried McTeague. “Come, now, yes or no, will + you pay your half?” + </p> + <p> + “You heard what I said.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you pay it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Miser!” shouted McTeague. “Miser! you're worse than old Zerkow. All + right, all right, keep your money. I'll pay the whole thirty-five. I'd + rather lose it than be such a miser as you.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you got anything to do,” returned Trina, “instead of staying here + and abusing me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, for the last time, will you help me out?” Trina cut the heads + of a fresh bunch of onions and gave no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to have my kitchen to myself, please,” she said in a mincing + way, irritating to a last degree. The dentist stamped out of the room, + banging the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + For nearly a week the breach between them remained unhealed. Trina only + spoke to the dentist in monosyllables, while he, exasperated at her + calmness and frigid reserve, sulked in his “Dental Parlors,” muttering + terrible things beneath his mustache, or finding solace in his concertina, + playing his six lugubrious airs over and over again, or swearing frightful + oaths at his canary. When Heise paid his bill, McTeague, in a fury, sent + the amount to the owner of the little house. + </p> + <p> + There was no formal reconciliation between the dentist and his little + woman. Their relations readjusted themselves inevitably. By the end of the + week they were as amicable as ever, but it was long before they spoke of + the little house again. Nor did they ever revisit it of a Sunday + afternoon. A month or so later the Ryers told them that the owner himself + had moved in. The McTeagues never occupied that little house. + </p> + <p> + But Trina suffered a reaction after the quarrel. She began to be sorry she + had refused to help her husband, sorry she had brought matters to such an + issue. One afternoon as she was at work on the Noah's ark animals, she + surprised herself crying over the affair. She loved her “old bear” too + much to do him an injustice, and perhaps, after all, she had been in the + wrong. Then it occurred to her how pretty it would be to come up behind + him unexpectedly, and slip the money, thirty-five dollars, into his hand, + and pull his huge head down to her and kiss his bald spot as she used to + do in the days before they were married. + </p> + <p> + Then she hesitated, pausing in her work, her knife dropping into her lap, + a half-whittled figure between her fingers. If not thirty-five dollars, + then at least fifteen or sixteen, her share of it. But a feeling of + reluctance, a sudden revolt against this intended generosity, arose in + her. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she said to herself. “I'll give him ten dollars. I'll tell him + it's all I can afford. It IS all I can afford.” + </p> + <p> + She hastened to finish the figure of the animal she was then at work upon, + putting in the ears and tail with a drop of glue, and tossing it into the + basket at her side. Then she rose and went into the bedroom and opened her + trunk, taking the key from under a corner of the carpet where she kept it + hid. + </p> + <p> + At the very bottom of her trunk, under her bridal dress, she kept her + savings. It was all in change—half dollars and dollars for the most + part, with here and there a gold piece. Long since the little brass + match-box had overflowed. Trina kept the surplus in a chamois-skin sack + she had made from an old chest protector. Just now, yielding to an impulse + which often seized her, she drew out the match-box and the chamois sack, + and emptying the contents on the bed, counted them carefully. It came to + one hundred and sixty-five dollars, all told. She counted it and recounted + it and made little piles of it, and rubbed the gold pieces between the + folds of her apron until they shone. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, ten dollars is all I can afford to give Mac,” said Trina, “and + even then, think of it, ten dollars—it will be four or five months + before I can save that again. But, dear old Mac, I know it would make him + feel glad, and perhaps,” she added, suddenly taken with an idea, “perhaps + Mac will refuse to take it.” + </p> + <p> + She took a ten-dollar piece from the heap and put the rest away. Then she + paused: + </p> + <p> + “No, not the gold piece,” she said to herself. “It's too pretty. He can + have the silver.” She made the change and counted out ten silver dollars + into her palm. But what a difference it made in the appearance and weight + of the little chamois bag! The bag was shrunken and withered, long + wrinkles appeared running downward from the draw-string. It was a + lamentable sight. Trina looked longingly at the ten broad pieces in her + hand. Then suddenly all her intuitive desire of saving, her instinct of + hoarding, her love of money for the money's sake, rose strong within her. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” she said. “I can't do it. It may be mean, but I can't help + it. It's stronger than I.” She returned the money to the bag and locked it + and the brass match-box in her trunk, turning the key with a long breath + of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + She was a little troubled, however, as she went back into the sitting-room + and took up her work. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't use to be so stingy,” she told herself. “Since I won in the + lottery I've become a regular little miser. It's growing on me, but never + mind, it's a good fault, and, anyhow, I can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11 + </h2> + <p> + On that particular morning the McTeagues had risen a half hour earlier + than usual and taken a hurried breakfast in the kitchen on the deal table + with its oilcloth cover. Trina was house-cleaning that week and had a + presentiment of a hard day's work ahead of her, while McTeague remembered + a seven o'clock appointment with a little German shoemaker. + </p> + <p> + At about eight o'clock, when the dentist had been in his office for over + an hour, Trina descended upon the bedroom, a towel about her head and the + roller-sweeper in her hand. She covered the bureau and sewing machine with + sheets, and unhooked the chenille portieres between the bedroom and the + sitting-room. As she was tying the Nottingham lace curtains at the window + into great knots, she saw old Miss Baker on the opposite sidewalk in the + street below, and raising the sash called down to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Mrs. McTeague,” cried the retired dressmaker, facing about, + her head in the air. Then a long conversation was begun, Trina, her arms + folded under her breast, her elbows resting on the window ledge, willing + to be idle for a moment; old Miss Baker, her market-basket on her arm, her + hands wrapped in the ends of her worsted shawl against the cold of the + early morning. They exchanged phrases, calling to each other from window + to curb, their breath coming from their lips in faint puffs of vapor, + their voices shrill, and raised to dominate the clamor of the waking + street. The newsboys had made their appearance on the street, together + with the day laborers. The cable cars had begun to fill up; all along the + street could be seen the shopkeepers taking down their shutters; some were + still breakfasting. Now and then a waiter from one of the cheap + restaurants crossed from one sidewalk to another, balancing on one palm a + tray covered with a napkin. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you out pretty early this morning, Miss Baker?” called Trina. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” answered the other. “I'm always up at half-past six, but I don't + always get out so soon. I wanted to get a nice head of cabbage and some + lentils for a soup, and if you don't go to market early, the restaurants + get all the best.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've been to market already, Miss Baker?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my, yes; and I got a fish—a sole—see.” She drew the sole + in question from her basket. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the lovely sole!” exclaimed Trina. + </p> + <p> + “I got this one at Spadella's; he always has good fish on Friday. How is + the doctor, Mrs. McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mac is always well, thank you, Miss Baker.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, Mrs. Ryer told me,” cried the little dressmaker, moving forward + a step out of the way of a “glass-put-in” man, “that Doctor McTeague + pulled a tooth of that Catholic priest, Father—oh, I forget his name—anyhow, + he pulled his tooth with his fingers. Was that true, Mrs. McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course. Mac does that almost all the time now, 'specially with + front teeth. He's got a regular reputation for it. He says it's brought + him more patients than even the sign I gave him,” she added, pointing to + the big golden molar projecting from the office window. + </p> + <p> + “With his fingers! Now, think of that,” exclaimed Miss Baker, wagging her + head. “Isn't he that strong! It's just wonderful. Cleaning house to-day?” + she inquired, glancing at Trina's towelled head. + </p> + <p> + “Um hum,” answered Trina. “Maria Macapa's coming in to help pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + At the mention of Maria's name the little old dressmaker suddenly uttered + an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I'm not here talking to you and forgetting something I was just + dying to tell you. Mrs. McTeague, what ever in the world do you suppose? + Maria and old Zerkow, that red-headed Polish Jew, the rag-bottles-sacks + man, you know, they're going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Trina, in blank amazement. “You don't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do. Isn't it the funniest thing you ever heard of?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me all about it,” said Trina, leaning eagerly from the window. + Miss Baker crossed the street and stood just beneath her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maria came to me last night and wanted me to make her a new gown, + said she wanted something gay, like what the girls at the candy store wear + when they go out with their young men. I couldn't tell what had got into + the girl, until finally she told me she wanted something to get married + in, and that Zerkow had asked her to marry him, and that she was going to + do it. Poor Maria! I guess it's the first and only offer she ever + received, and it's just turned her head.” + </p> + <p> + “But what DO those two see in each other?” cried Trina. “Zerkow is a + horror, he's an old man, and his hair is red and his voice is gone, and + then he's a Jew, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know; but it's Maria's only chance for a husband, and she don't + mean to let it pass. You know she isn't quite right in her head, anyhow. + I'm awfully sorry for poor Maria. But I can't see what Zerkow wants to + marry her for. It's not possible that he's in love with Maria, it's out of + the question. Maria hasn't a sou, either, and I'm just positive that + Zerkow has lots of money.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet I know why,” exclaimed Trina, with sudden conviction; “yes, I + know just why. See here, Miss Baker, you know how crazy old Zerkow is + after money and gold and those sort of things.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; but you know Maria hasn't——” + </p> + <p> + “Now, just listen. You've heard Maria tell about that wonderful service of + gold dishes she says her folks used to own in Central America; she's crazy + on that subject, don't you know. She's all right on everything else, but + just start her on that service of gold plate and she'll talk you deaf. She + can describe it just as though she saw it, and she can make you see it, + too, almost. Now, you see, Maria and Zerkow have known each other pretty + well. Maria goes to him every two weeks or so to sell him junk; they got + acquainted that way, and I know Maria's been dropping in to see him pretty + often this last year, and sometimes he comes here to see her. He's made + Maria tell him the story of that plate over and over and over again, and + Maria does it and is glad to, because he's the only one that believes it. + Now he's going to marry her just so's he can hear that story every day, + every hour. He's pretty near as crazy on the subject as Maria is. They're + a pair for you, aren't they? Both crazy over a lot of gold dishes that + never existed. Perhaps Maria'll marry him because it's her only chance to + get a husband, but I'm sure it's more for the reason that she's got some + one to talk to now who believes her story. Don't you think I'm right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I guess you're right,” admitted Miss Baker. + </p> + <p> + “But it's a queer match anyway you put it,” said Trina, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you may well say that,” returned the other, nodding her head. There + was a silence. For a long moment the dentist's wife and the retired + dressmaker, the one at the window, the other on the sidewalk, remained + lost in thought, wondering over the strangeness of the affair. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly there was a diversion. Alexander, Marcus Schouler's Irish + setter, whom his master had long since allowed the liberty of running + untrammelled about the neighborhood, turned the corner briskly and came + trotting along the sidewalk where Miss Baker stood. At the same moment the + Scotch collie who had at one time belonged to the branch post-office + issued from the side door of a house not fifty feet away. In an instant + the two enemies had recognized each other. They halted abruptly, their + fore feet planted rigidly. Trina uttered a little cry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, look out, Miss Baker. Those two dogs hate each other just like + humans. You best look out. They'll fight sure.” Miss Baker sought safety + in a nearby vestibule, whence she peered forth at the scene, very + interested and curious. Maria Macapa's head thrust itself from one of the + top-story windows of the flat, with a shrill cry. Even McTeague's huge + form appeared above the half curtains of the “Parlor” windows, while over + his shoulder could be seen the face of the “patient,” a napkin tucked in + his collar, the rubber dam depending from his mouth. All the flat knew of + the feud between the dogs, but never before had the pair been brought face + to face. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the collie and the setter had drawn near to each other; five + feet apart they paused as if by mutual consent. The collie turned sidewise + to the setter; the setter instantly wheeled himself flank on to the + collie. Their tails rose and stiffened, they raised their lips over their + long white fangs, the napes of their necks bristled, and they showed each + other the vicious whites of their eyes, while they drew in their breaths + with prolonged and rasping snarls. Each dog seemed to be the + personification of fury and unsatisfied hate. They began to circle about + each other with infinite slowness, walking stiffed-legged and upon the + very points of their feet. Then they wheeled about and began to circle in + the opposite direction. Twice they repeated this motion, their snarls + growing louder. But still they did not come together, and the distance of + five feet between them was maintained with an almost mathematical + precision. It was magnificent, but it was not war. Then the setter, + pausing in his walk, turned his head slowly from his enemy. The collie + sniffed the air and pretended an interest in an old shoe lying in the + gutter. Gradually and with all the dignity of monarchs they moved away + from each other. Alexander stalked back to the corner of the street. The + collie paced toward the side gate whence he had issued, affecting to + remember something of great importance. They disappeared. Once out of + sight of one another they began to bark furiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I NEVER!” exclaimed Trina in great disgust. “The way those two dogs + have been carrying on you'd 'a' thought they would 'a' just torn each + other to pieces when they had the chance, and here I'm wasting the whole + morning——” she closed her window with a bang. + </p> + <p> + “Sick 'im, sick 'im,” called Maria Macapa, in a vain attempt to promote a + fight. + </p> + <p> + Old Miss Baker came out of the vestibule, pursing her lips, quite put out + at the fiasco. “And after all that fuss,” she said to herself aggrievedly. + </p> + <p> + The little dressmaker bought an envelope of nasturtium seeds at the + florist's, and returned to her tiny room in the flat. But as she slowly + mounted the first flight of steps she suddenly came face to face with Old + Grannis, who was coming down. It was between eight and nine, and he was on + his way to his little dog hospital, no doubt. Instantly Miss Baker was + seized with trepidation, her curious little false curls shook, a faint—a + very faint—flush came into her withered cheeks, and her heart beat + so violently under the worsted shawl that she felt obliged to shift the + market-basket to her other arm and put out her free hand to steady herself + against the rail. + </p> + <p> + On his part, Old Grannis was instantly overwhelmed with confusion. His + awkwardness seemed to paralyze his limbs, his lips twitched and turned + dry, his hand went tremblingly to his chin. But what added to Miss Baker's + miserable embarrassment on this occasion was the fact that the old + Englishman should meet her thus, carrying a sordid market-basket full of + sordid fish and cabbage. It seemed as if a malicious fate persisted in + bringing the two old people face to face at the most inopportune moments. + </p> + <p> + Just now, however, a veritable catastrophe occurred. The little old + dressmaker changed her basket to her other arm at precisely the wrong + moment, and Old Grannis, hastening to pass, removing his hat in a hurried + salutation, struck it with his fore arm, knocking it from her grasp, and + sending it rolling and bumping down the stairs. The sole fell flat upon + the first landing; the lentils scattered themselves over the entire + flight; while the cabbage, leaping from step to step, thundered down the + incline and brought up against the street door with a shock that + reverberated through the entire building. + </p> + <p> + The little retired dressmaker, horribly vexed, nervous and embarrassed, + was hard put to it to keep back the tears. Old Grannis stood for a moment + with averted eyes, murmuring: “Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I—I + really—I beg your pardon, really—really.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus Schouler, coming down stairs from his room, saved the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, people,” he cried. “By damn! you've upset your basket—you + have, for a fact. Here, let's pick um up.” He and Old Grannis went up and + down the flight, gathering up the fish, the lentils, and the sadly + battered cabbage. Marcus was raging over the pusillanimity of Alexander, + of which Maria had just told him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll cut him in two—with the whip,” he shouted. “I will, I will, I + say I will, for a fact. He wouldn't fight, hey? I'll give um all the fight + he wants, nasty, mangy cur. If he won't fight he won't eat. I'm going to + get the butcher's bull pup and I'll put um both in a bag and shake um up. + I will, for a fact, and I guess Alec will fight. Come along, Mister + Grannis,” and he took the old Englishman away. + </p> + <p> + Little Miss Baker hastened to her room and locked herself in. She was + excited and upset during all the rest of the day, and listened eagerly for + Old Grannis's return that evening. He went instantly to work binding up + “The Breeder and Sportsman,” and back numbers of the “Nation.” She heard + him softly draw his chair and the table on which he had placed his little + binding apparatus close to the wall. At once she did the same, brewing + herself a cup of tea. All through that evening the two old people “kept + company” with each other, after their own peculiar fashion. “Setting out + with each other” Miss Baker had begun to call it. That they had been + presented, that they had even been forced to talk together, had made no + change in their relative positions. Almost immediately they had fallen + back into their old ways again, quite unable to master their timidity, to + overcome the stifling embarrassment that seized upon them when in each + other's presence. It was a sort of hypnotism, a thing stronger than + themselves. But they were not altogether dissatisfied with the way things + had come to be. It was their little romance, their last, and they were + living through it with supreme enjoyment and calm contentment. + </p> + <p> + Marcus Schouler still occupied his old room on the floor above the + McTeagues. They saw but little of him, however. At long intervals the + dentist or his wife met him on the stairs of the flat. Sometimes he would + stop and talk with Trina, inquiring after the Sieppes, asking her if Mr. + Sieppe had yet heard of any one with whom he, Marcus, could “go in with on + a ranch.” McTeague, Marcus merely nodded to. Never had the quarrel between + the two men been completely patched up. It did not seem possible to the + dentist now that Marcus had ever been his “pal,” that they had ever taken + long walks together. He was sorry that he had treated Marcus gratis for an + ulcerated tooth, while Marcus daily recalled the fact that he had given up + his “girl” to his friend—the girl who had won a fortune—as the + great mistake of his life. Only once since the wedding had he called upon + Trina, at a time when he knew McTeague would be out. Trina had shown him + through the rooms and had told him, innocently enough, how gay was their + life there. Marcus had come away fairly sick with envy; his rancor against + the dentist—and against himself, for that matter—knew no + bounds. “And you might 'a' had it all yourself, Marcus Schouler,” he + muttered to himself on the stairs. “You mushhead, you damn fool!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Marcus was becoming involved in the politics of his ward. As + secretary of the Polk Street Improvement Club—which soon developed + into quite an affair and began to assume the proportions of a Republican + political machine—he found he could make a little, a very little + more than enough to live on. At once he had given up his position as Old + Grannis's assistant in the dog hospital. Marcus felt that he needed a + wider sphere. He had his eye upon a place connected with the city pound. + When the great railroad strike occurred, he promptly got himself engaged + as deputy-sheriff, and spent a memorable week in Sacramento, where he + involved himself in more than one terrible melee with the strikers. Marcus + had that quickness of temper and passionate readiness to take offence + which passes among his class for bravery. But whatever were his motives, + his promptness to face danger could not for a moment be doubted. After the + strike he returned to Polk Street, and throwing himself into the + Improvement Club, heart, soul, and body, soon became one of its ruling + spirits. In a certain local election, where a huge paving contract was at + stake, the club made itself felt in the ward, and Marcus so managed his + cards and pulled his wires that, at the end of the matter, he found + himself some four hundred dollars to the good. + </p> + <p> + When McTeague came out of his “Parlors” at noon of the day upon which + Trina had heard the news of Maria Macapa's intended marriage, he found + Trina burning coffee on a shovel in the sitting-room. Try as she would, + Trina could never quite eradicate from their rooms a certain faint and + indefinable odor, particularly offensive to her. The smell of the + photographer's chemicals persisted in spite of all Trina could do to + combat it. She burnt pastilles and Chinese punk, and even, as now, coffee + on a shovel, all to no purpose. Indeed, the only drawback to their + delightful home was the general unpleasant smell that pervaded it—a + smell that arose partly from the photographer's chemicals, partly from the + cooking in the little kitchen, and partly from the ether and creosote of + the dentist's “Parlors.” + </p> + <p> + As McTeague came in to lunch on this occasion, he found the table already + laid, a red cloth figured with white flowers was spread, and as he took + his seat his wife put down the shovel on a chair and brought in the stewed + codfish and the pot of chocolate. As he tucked his napkin into his + enormous collar, McTeague looked vaguely about the room, rolling his eyes. + </p> + <p> + During the three years of their married life the McTeagues had made but + few additions to their furniture, Trina declaring that they could not + afford it. The sitting-room could boast of but three new ornaments. Over + the melodeon hung their marriage certificate in a black frame. It was + balanced upon one side by Trina's wedding bouquet under a glass case, + preserved by some fearful unknown process, and upon the other by the + photograph of Trina and the dentist in their wedding finery. This latter + picture was quite an affair, and had been taken immediately after the + wedding, while McTeague's broadcloth was still new, and before Trina's + silks and veil had lost their stiffness. It represented Trina, her veil + thrown back, sitting very straight in a rep armchair, her elbows well in + at her sides, holding her bouquet of cut flowers directly before her. The + dentist stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder, the other thrust into + the breast of his “Prince Albert,” his chin in the air, his eyes to one + side, his left foot forward in the attitude of a statue of a Secretary of + State. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Trina,” said McTeague, his mouth full of codfish, “Heise looked in + on me this morning. He says 'What's the matter with a basket picnic over + at Schuetzen Park next Tuesday?' You know the paper-hangers are going to + be in the 'Parlors' all that day, so I'll have a holiday. That's what made + Heise think of it. Heise says he'll get the Ryers to go too. It's the + anniversary of their wedding day. We'll ask Selina to go; she can meet us + on the other side. Come on, let's go, huh, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Trina still had her mania for family picnics, which had been one of the + Sieppes most cherished customs; but now there were other considerations. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know as we can afford it this month, Mac,” she said, pouring the + chocolate. “I got to pay the gas bill next week, and there's the papering + of your office to be paid for some time.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know,” answered her husband. “But I got a new patient this + week, had two molars and an upper incisor filled at the very first + sitting, and he's going to bring his children round. He's a barber on the + next block.” + </p> + <p> + “Well you pay half, then,” said Trina. “It'll cost three or four dollars + at the very least; and mind, the Heises pay their own fare both ways, Mac, + and everybody gets their OWN lunch. Yes,” she added, after a pause, “I'll + write and have Selina join us. I haven't seen Selina in months. I guess + I'll have to put up a lunch for her, though,” admitted Trina, “the way we + did last time, because she lives in a boarding-house now, and they make a + fuss about putting up a lunch.” + </p> + <p> + They could count on pleasant weather at this time of the year—it was + May—and that particular Tuesday was all that could be desired. The + party assembled at the ferry slip at nine o'clock, laden with baskets. The + McTeagues came last of all; Ryer and his wife had already boarded the + boat. They met the Heises in the waiting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Doctor,” cried the harness-maker as the McTeagues came up. “This + is what you'd call an old folks' picnic, all married people this time.” + </p> + <p> + The party foregathered on the upper deck as the boat started, and sat down + to listen to the band of Italian musicians who were playing outside this + morning because of the fineness of the weather. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're going to have lots of fun,” cried Trina. “If it's anything I do + love it's a picnic. Do you remember our first picnic, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” replied the dentist; “we had a Gotha truffle.” + </p> + <p> + “And August lost his steamboat,” put in Trina, “and papa smacked him. I + remember it just as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, look there,” said Mrs. Heise, nodding at a figure coming up the + companion-way. “Ain't that Mr. Schouler?” + </p> + <p> + It was Marcus, sure enough. As he caught sight of the party he gaped at + them a moment in blank astonishment, and then ran up, his eyes wide. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by damn!” he exclaimed, excitedly. “What's up? Where you all going, + anyhow? Say, ain't ut queer we should all run up against each other like + this?” He made great sweeping bows to the three women, and shook hands + with “Cousin Trina,” adding, as he turned to the men of the party, “Glad + to see you, Mister Heise. How do, Mister Ryer?” The dentist, who had + formulated some sort of reserved greeting, he ignored completely. McTeague + settled himself in his seat, growling inarticulately behind his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “Say, say, what's all up, anyhow?” cried Marcus again. + </p> + <p> + “It's a picnic,” exclaimed the three women, all speaking at once; and + Trina added, “We're going over to the same old Schuetzen Park again. But + you're all fixed up yourself, Cousin Mark; you look as though you were + going somewhere yourself.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, Marcus was dressed with great care. He wore a new pair of + slate-blue trousers, a black “cutaway,” and a white lawn “tie” (for him + the symbol of the height of elegance). He carried also his cane, a thin + wand of ebony with a gold head, presented to him by the Improvement Club + in “recognition of services.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, that's right,” said Marcus, with a grin. “I'm takun a + holiday myself to-day. I had a bit of business to do over at Oakland, an' + I thought I'd go up to B Street afterward and see Selina. I haven't called + on——” + </p> + <p> + But the party uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Selina is going with us.” + </p> + <p> + “She's going to meet us at the Schuetzen Park station” explained Trina. + </p> + <p> + Marcus's business in Oakland was a fiction. He was crossing the bay that + morning solely to see Selina. Marcus had “taken up with” Selina a little + after Trina had married, and had been “rushing” her ever since, dazzled + and attracted by her accomplishments, for which he pretended a great + respect. At the prospect of missing Selina on this occasion, he was + genuinely disappointed. His vexation at once assumed the form of + exasperation against McTeague. It was all the dentist's fault. Ah, + McTeague was coming between him and Selina now as he had come between him + and Trina. Best look out, by damn! how he monkeyed with him now. Instantly + his face flamed and he glanced over furiously at the dentist, who, + catching his eye, began again to mutter behind his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “Well, say,” began Mrs. Ryer, with some hesitation, looking to Ryer for + approval, “why can't Marcus come along with us?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course,” exclaimed Mrs. Heise, disregarding her husband's + vigorous nudges. “I guess we got lunch enough to go round, all right; + don't you say so, Mrs. McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + Thus appealed to, Trina could only concur. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, Cousin Mark,” she said; “of course, come along with us if + you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you bet I will,” cried Marcus, enthusiastic in an instant. “Say, + this is outa sight; it is, for a fact; a picnic—ah, sure—and + we'll meet Selina at the station.” + </p> + <p> + Just as the boat was passing Goat Island, the harness-maker proposed that + the men of the party should go down to the bar on the lower deck and shake + for the drinks. The idea had an immediate success. + </p> + <p> + “Have to see you on that,” said Ryer. + </p> + <p> + “By damn, we'll have a drink! Yes, sir, we will, for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure, drinks, that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + At the bar Heise and Ryer ordered cocktails, Marcus called for a “creme + Yvette” in order to astonish the others. The dentist spoke for a glass of + beer. + </p> + <p> + “Say, look here,” suddenly exclaimed Heise as they took their glasses. + “Look here, you fellahs,” he had turned to Marcus and the dentist. “You + two fellahs have had a grouch at each other for the last year or so; now + what's the matter with your shaking hands and calling quits?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was at once overcome with a great feeling of magnanimity. He put + out his great hand. + </p> + <p> + “I got nothing against Marcus,” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't care if I shake,” admitted Marcus, a little shamefacedly, + as their palms touched. “I guess that's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the idea,” exclaimed Heise, delighted at his success. “Come on, + boys, now let's drink.” Their elbows crooked and they drank silently. + </p> + <p> + Their picnic that day was very jolly. Nothing had changed at Schuetzen + Park since the day of that other memorable Sieppe picnic four years + previous. After lunch the men took themselves off to the rifle range, + while Selina, Trina, and the other two women put away the dishes. An hour + later the men joined them in great spirits. Ryer had won the impromptu + match which they had arranged, making quite a wonderful score, which + included three clean bulls' eyes, while McTeague had not been able even to + hit the target itself. + </p> + <p> + Their shooting match had awakened a spirit of rivalry in the men, and the + rest of the afternoon was passed in athletic exercises between them. The + women sat on the slope of the grass, their hats and gloves laid aside, + watching the men as they strove together. Aroused by the little feminine + cries of wonder and the clapping of their ungloved palms, these latter + began to show off at once. They took off their coats and vests, even their + neckties and collars, and worked themselves into a lather of perspiration + for the sake of making an impression on their wives. They ran hundred-yard + sprints on the cinder path and executed clumsy feats on the rings and on + the parallel bars. They even found a huge round stone on the beach and + “put the shot” for a while. As long as it was a question of agility, + Marcus was easily the best of the four; but the dentist's enormous + strength, his crude, untutored brute force, was a matter of wonder for the + entire party. McTeague cracked English walnuts—taken from the lunch + baskets—in the hollow of his arm, and tossed the round stone a full + five feet beyond their best mark. Heise believed himself to be + particularly strong in the wrists, but the dentist, using but one hand, + twisted a cane out of Heise's two with a wrench that all but sprained the + harnessmaker's arm. Then the dentist raised weights and chinned himself on + the rings till they thought he would never tire. + </p> + <p> + His great success quite turned his head; he strutted back and forth in + front of the women, his chest thrown out, and his great mouth perpetually + expanded in a triumphant grin. As he felt his strength more and more, he + began to abuse it; he domineered over the others, gripping suddenly at + their arms till they squirmed with pain, and slapping Marcus on the back + so that he gasped and gagged for breath. The childish vanity of the great + fellow was as undisguised as that of a schoolboy. He began to tell of + wonderful feats of strength he had accomplished when he was a young man. + Why, at one time he had knocked down a half-grown heifer with a blow of + his fist between the eyes, sure, and the heifer had just stiffened out and + trembled all over and died without getting up. + </p> + <p> + McTeague told this story again, and yet again. All through the afternoon + he could be overheard relating the wonder to any one who would listen, + exaggerating the effect of his blow, inventing terrific details. Why, the + heifer had just frothed at the mouth, and his eyes had rolled up—ah, + sure, his eyes rolled up just like that—and the butcher had said his + skull was all mashed in—just all mashed in, sure, that's the word—just + as if from a sledge-hammer. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his reconciliation with the dentist on the boat, Marcus's + gorge rose within him at McTeague's boasting swagger. When McTeague had + slapped him on the back, Marcus had retired to some little distance while + he recovered his breath, and glared at the dentist fiercely as he strode + up and down, glorying in the admiring glances of the women. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, one-horse dentist,” he muttered between his teeth. “Ah, zinc-plugger, + cow-killer, I'd like to show you once, you overgrown mucker, you—you—COW-KILLER!” + </p> + <p> + When he rejoined the group, he found them preparing for a wrestling bout. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what,” said Heise, “we'll have a tournament. Marcus and I will + rastle, and Doc and Ryer, and then the winners will rastle each other.” + </p> + <p> + The women clapped their hands excitedly. This would be exciting. Trina + cried: + </p> + <p> + “Better let me hold your money, Mac, and your keys, so as you won't lose + them out of your pockets.” The men gave their valuables into the keeping + of their wives and promptly set to work. + </p> + <p> + The dentist thrust Ryer down without even changing his grip; Marcus and + the harness-maker struggled together for a few moments till Heise all at + once slipped on a bit of turf and fell backwards. As they toppled over + together, Marcus writhed himself from under his opponent, and, as they + reached the ground, forced down first one shoulder and then the other. + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right,” panted the harness-maker, goodnaturedly, “I'm + down. It's up to you and Doc now,” he added, as he got to his feet. + </p> + <p> + The match between McTeague and Marcus promised to be interesting. The + dentist, of course, had an enormous advantage in point of strength, but + Marcus prided himself on his wrestling, and knew something about + strangle-holds and half-Nelsons. The men drew back to allow them a free + space as they faced each other, while Trina and the other women rose to + their feet in their excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I bet Mac will throw him, all the same,” said Trina. + </p> + <p> + “All ready!” cried Ryer. + </p> + <p> + The dentist and Marcus stepped forward, eyeing each other cautiously. They + circled around the impromptu ring. Marcus watching eagerly for an opening. + He ground his teeth, telling himself he would throw McTeague if it killed + him. Ah, he'd show him now. Suddenly the two men caught at each other; + Marcus went to his knees. The dentist threw his vast bulk on his + adversary's shoulders and, thrusting a huge palm against his face, pushed + him backwards and downwards. It was out of the question to resist that + enormous strength. Marcus wrenched himself over and fell face downward on + the ground. + </p> + <p> + McTeague rose on the instant with a great laugh of exultation. + </p> + <p> + “You're down!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Marcus leaped to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Down nothing,” he vociferated, with clenched fists. “Down nothing, by + damn! You got to throw me so's my shoulders touch.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was stalking about, swelling with pride. + </p> + <p> + “Hoh, you're down. I threw you. Didn't I throw him, Trina? Hoh, you can't + rastle ME.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus capered with rage. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't! you didn't! you didn't! and you can't! You got to give me + another try.” + </p> + <p> + The other men came crowding up. Everybody was talking at once. + </p> + <p> + “He's right.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't throw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Both his shoulders at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + Trina clapped and waved her hand at McTeague from where she stood on the + little slope of lawn above the wrestlers. Marcus broke through the group, + shaking all over with excitement and rage. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you that ain't the WAY to rastle. You've got to throw a man so's + his shoulders touch. You got to give me another bout.” + </p> + <p> + “That's straight,” put in Heise, “both his shoulders down at the same + time. Try it again. You and Schouler have another try.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was bewildered by so much simultaneous talk. He could not make + out what it was all about. Could he have offended Marcus again? + </p> + <p> + “What? What? Huh? What is it?” he exclaimed in perplexity, looking from + one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, you must rastle me again,” shouted Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” cried the dentist. “I'll rastle you again. I'll rastle + everybody,” he cried, suddenly struck with an idea. Trina looked on in + some apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Mark gets so mad,” she said, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” admitted Selina. “Mister Schouler's got an awful quick temper, but + he ain't afraid of anything.” + </p> + <p> + “All ready!” shouted Ryer. + </p> + <p> + This time Marcus was more careful. Twice, as McTeague rushed at him, he + slipped cleverly away. But as the dentist came in a third time, with his + head bowed, Marcus, raising himself to his full height, caught him with + both arms around the neck. The dentist gripped at him and rent away the + sleeve of his shirt. There was a great laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your shirt on,” cried Mrs. Ryer. + </p> + <p> + The two men were grappling at each other wildly. The party could hear them + panting and grunting as they labored and struggled. Their boots tore up + great clods of turf. Suddenly they came to the ground with a tremendous + shock. But even as they were in the act of falling, Marcus, like a very + eel, writhed in the dentist's clasp and fell upon his side. McTeague + crashed down upon him like the collapse of a felled ox. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you gotta turn him on his back,” shouted Heise to the dentist. “He + ain't down if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + With his huge salient chin digging into Marcus's shoulder, the dentist + heaved and tugged. His face was flaming, his huge shock of yellow hair + fell over his forehead, matted with sweat. Marcus began to yield despite + his frantic efforts. One shoulder was down, now the other began to go; + gradually, gradually it was forced over. The little audience held its + breath in the suspense of the moment. Selina broke the silence, calling + out shrilly: + </p> + <p> + “Ain't Doctor McTeague just that strong!” + </p> + <p> + Marcus heard it, and his fury came instantly to a head. Rage at his defeat + at the hands of the dentist and before Selina's eyes, the hate he still + bore his old-time “pal” and the impotent wrath of his own powerlessness + were suddenly unleashed. + </p> + <p> + “God damn you! get off of me,” he cried under his breath, spitting the + words as a snake spits its venom. The little audience uttered a cry. With + the oath Marcus had twisted his head and had bitten through the lobe of + the dentist's ear. There was a sudden flash of bright-red blood. + </p> + <p> + Then followed a terrible scene. The brute that in McTeague lay so close to + the surface leaped instantly to life, monstrous, not to be resisted. He + sprang to his feet with a shrill and meaningless clamor, totally unlike + the ordinary bass of his speaking tones. It was the hideous yelling of a + hurt beast, the squealing of a wounded elephant. He framed no words; in + the rush of high-pitched sound that issued from his wide-open mouth there + was nothing articulate. It was something no longer human; it was rather an + echo from the jungle. + </p> + <p> + Sluggish enough and slow to anger on ordinary occasions, McTeague when + finally aroused became another man. His rage was a kind of obsession, an + evil mania, the drunkenness of passion, the exalted and perverted fury of + the Berserker, blind and deaf, a thing insensate. + </p> + <p> + As he rose he caught Marcus's wrist in both his hands. He did not strike, + he did not know what he was doing. His only idea was to batter the life + out of the man before him, to crush and annihilate him upon the instant. + Gripping his enemy in his enormous hands, hard and knotted, and covered + with a stiff fell of yellow hair—the hands of the old-time car-boy—he + swung him wide, as a hammer-thrower swings his hammer. Marcus's feet + flipped from the ground, he spun through the air about McTeague as + helpless as a bundle of clothes. All at once there was a sharp snap, + almost like the report of a small pistol. Then Marcus rolled over and over + upon the ground as McTeague released his grip; his arm, the one the + dentist had seized, bending suddenly, as though a third joint had formed + between wrist and elbow. The arm was broken. + </p> + <p> + But by this time every one was crying out at once. Heise and Ryan ran in + between the two men. Selina turned her head away. Trina was wringing her + hands and crying in an agony of dread: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stop them, stop them! Don't let them fight. Oh, it's too awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, here, Doc, quit. Don't make a fool of yourself,” cried Heise, + clinging to the dentist. “That's enough now. LISTEN to me, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac, Mac,” cried Trina, running to her husband. “Mac, dear, listen; + it's me, it's Trina, look at me, you——” + </p> + <p> + “Get hold of his other arm, will you, Ryer?” panted Heise. “Quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Mac, Mac,” cried Trina, her arms about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, hold up, Doc, will you?” shouted the harness-maker. “You + don't want to kill him, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ryer and Heise's lame wife were filling the air with their outcries. + Selina was giggling with hysteria. Marcus, terrified, but too brave to + run, had picked up a jagged stone with his left hand and stood on the + defensive. His swollen right arm, from which the shirt sleeve had been + torn, dangled at his side, the back of the hand twisted where the palm + should have been. The shirt itself was a mass of grass stains and was + spotted with the dentist's blood. + </p> + <p> + But McTeague, in the centre of the group that struggled to hold him, was + nigh to madness. The side of his face, his neck, and all the shoulder and + breast of his shirt were covered with blood. He had ceased to cry out, but + kept muttering between his gripped jaws, as he labored to tear himself + free of the retaining hands: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I'll kill him! Ah, I'll kill him! I'll kill him! Damn you, Heise,” he + exclaimed suddenly, trying to strike the harness-maker, “let go of me, + will you!” + </p> + <p> + Little by little they pacified him, or rather (for he paid but little + attention to what was said to him) his bestial fury lapsed by degrees. He + turned away and let fall his arms, drawing long breaths, and looking + stupidly about him, now searching helplessly upon the ground, now gazing + vaguely into the circle of faces about him. His ear bled as though it + would never stop. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Doctor,” asked Heise, “what's the best thing to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” answered McTeague. “What—what do you mean? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “What'll we do to stop this bleeding here?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague did not answer, but looked intently at the blood-stained bosom of + his shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Mac,” cried Trina, her face close to his, “tell us something—the + best thing we can do to stop your ear bleeding.” + </p> + <p> + “Collodium,” said the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “But we can't get to that right away; we—” + </p> + <p> + “There's some ice in our lunch basket,” broke in Heise. “We brought it for + the beer; and take the napkins and make a bandage.” + </p> + <p> + “Ice,” muttered the dentist, “sure, ice, that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Heise and the Ryers were looking after Marcus's broken arm. Selina + sat on the slope of the grass, gasping and sobbing. Trina tore the napkins + into strips, and, crushing some of the ice, made a bandage for her + husband's head.' + </p> + <p> + The party resolved itself into two groups; the Ryers and Mrs. Heise + bending over Marcus, while the harness-maker and Trina came and went about + McTeague, sitting on the ground, his shirt, a mere blur of red and white, + detaching itself violently from the background of pale-green grass. + Between the two groups was the torn and trampled bit of turf, the + wrestling ring; the picnic baskets, together with empty beer bottles, + broken egg-shells, and discarded sardine tins, were scattered here and + there. In the middle of the improvised wrestling ring the sleeve of + Marcus's shirt fluttered occasionally in the sea breeze. + </p> + <p> + Nobody was paying any attention to Selina. All at once she began to giggle + hysterically again, then cried out with a peal of laughter: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a way for our picnic to end!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12 + </h2> + <p> + “Now, then, Maria,” said Zerkow, his cracked, strained voice just rising + above a whisper, hitching his chair closer to the table, “now, then, my + girl, let's have it all over again. Tell us about the gold plate—the + service. Begin with, 'There were over a hundred pieces and every one of + them gold.'” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you're talking about, Zerkow,” answered Maria. “There + never was no gold plate, no gold service. I guess you must have dreamed + it.” + </p> + <p> + Maria and the red-headed Polish Jew had been married about a month after + the McTeague's picnic which had ended in such lamentable fashion. Zerkow + had taken Maria home to his wretched hovel in the alley back of the flat, + and the flat had been obliged to get another maid of all work. Time + passed, a month, six months, a whole year went by. At length Maria gave + birth to a child, a wretched, sickly child, with not even strength enough + nor wits enough to cry. At the time of its birth Maria was out of her + mind, and continued in a state of dementia for nearly ten days. She + recovered just in time to make the arrangements for the baby's burial. + Neither Zerkow nor Maria was much affected by either the birth or the + death of this little child. Zerkow had welcomed it with pronounced + disfavor, since it had a mouth to be fed and wants to be provided for. + Maria was out of her head so much of the time that she could scarcely + remember how it looked when alive. The child was a mere incident in their + lives, a thing that had come undesired and had gone unregretted. It had + not even a name; a strange, hybrid little being, come and gone within a + fortnight's time, yet combining in its puny little body the blood of the + Hebrew, the Pole, and the Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + But the birth of this child had peculiar consequences. Maria came out of + her dementia, and in a few days the household settled itself again to its + sordid regime and Maria went about her duties as usual. Then one evening, + about a week after the child's burial, Zerkow had asked Maria to tell him + the story of the famous service of gold plate for the hundredth time. + </p> + <p> + Zerkow had come to believe in this story infallibly. He was immovably + persuaded that at one time Maria or Maria's people had possessed these + hundred golden dishes. In his perverted mind the hallucination had + developed still further. Not only had that service of gold plate once + existed, but it existed now, entire, intact; not a single burnished golden + piece of it was missing. It was somewhere, somebody had it, locked away in + that leather trunk with its quilted lining and round brass locks. It was + to be searched for and secured, to be fought for, to be gained at all + hazards. Maria must know where it was; by dint of questioning, Zerkow + would surely get the information from her. Some day, if only he was + persistent, he would hit upon the right combination of questions, the + right suggestion that would disentangle Maria's confused recollections. + Maria would tell him where the thing was kept, was concealed, was buried, + and he would go to that place and secure it, and all that wonderful gold + would be his forever and forever. This service of plate had come to be + Zerkow's mania. + </p> + <p> + On this particular evening, about a week after the child's burial, in the + wretched back room of the Junk shop, Zerkow had made Maria sit down to the + table opposite him—the whiskey bottle and the red glass tumbler with + its broken base between them—and had said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, Maria, tell us that story of the gold dishes again.” + </p> + <p> + Maria stared at him, an expression of perplexity coming into her face. + </p> + <p> + “What gold dishes?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “The ones your people used to own in Central America. Come on, Maria, + begin, begin.” The Jew craned himself forward, his lean fingers clawing + eagerly at his lips. + </p> + <p> + “What gold plate?” said Maria, frowning at him as she drank her whiskey. + “What gold plate? I don' know what you're talking about, Zerkow.” + </p> + <p> + Zerkow sat back in his chair, staring at her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, your people's gold dishes, what they used to eat off of. You've told + me about it a hundred times.” + </p> + <p> + “You're crazy, Zerkow,” said Maria. “Push the bottle here, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, now,” insisted Zerkow, sweating with desire, “come, now, my girl, + don't be a fool; let's have it, let's have it. Begin now, 'There were + more'n a hundred pieces, and every one of 'em gold.' Oh, YOU know; come + on, come on.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't remember nothing of the kind,” protested Maria, reaching for the + bottle. Zerkow snatched it from her. + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” he wheezed, trying to raise his broken voice to a shout. “You + fool! Don't you dare try an' cheat ME, or I'll DO for you. You know about + the gold plate, and you know where it is.” Suddenly he pitched his voice + at the prolonged rasping shout with which he made his street cry. He rose + to his feet, his long, prehensile fingers curled into fists. He was + menacing, terrible in his rage. He leaned over Maria, his fists in her + face. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you've got it!” he yelled. “I believe you've got it, an' are + hiding it from me. Where is it, where is it? Is it here?” he rolled his + eyes wildly about the room. “Hey? hey?” he went on, shaking Maria by the + shoulders. “Where is it? Is it here? Tell me where it is. Tell me, or I'll + do for you!” + </p> + <p> + “It ain't here,” cried Maria, wrenching from him. “It ain't anywhere. What + gold plate? What are you talking about? I don't remember nothing about no + gold plate at all.” + </p> + <p> + No, Maria did not remember. The trouble and turmoil of her mind consequent + upon the birth of her child seemed to have readjusted her disordered ideas + upon this point. Her mania had come to a crisis, which in subsiding had + cleared her brain of its one illusion. She did not remember. Or it was + possible that the gold plate she had once remembered had had some + foundation in fact, that her recital of its splendors had been truth, + sound and sane. It was possible that now her FORGETFULNESS of it was some + form of brain trouble, a relic of the dementia of childbirth. At all + events Maria did not remember; the idea of the gold plate had passed + entirely out of her mind, and it was now Zerkow who labored under its + hallucination. It was now Zerkow, the raker of the city's muck heap, the + searcher after gold, that saw that wonderful service in the eye of his + perverted mind. It was he who could now describe it in a language almost + eloquent. Maria had been content merely to remember it; but Zerkow's + avarice goaded him to a belief that it was still in existence, hid + somewhere, perhaps in that very house, stowed away there by Maria. For it + stood to reason, didn't it, that Maria could not have described it with + such wonderful accuracy and such careful detail unless she had seen it + recently—the day before, perhaps, or that very day, or that very + hour, that very HOUR? + </p> + <p> + “Look out for yourself,” he whispered, hoarsely, to his wife. “Look out + for yourself, my girl. I'll hunt for it, and hunt for it, and hunt for it, + and some day I'll find it—I will, you'll see—I'll find it, + I'll find it; and if I don't, I'll find a way that'll make you tell me + where it is. I'll make you speak—believe me, I will, I will, my girl—trust + me for that.” + </p> + <p> + And at night Maria would sometimes wake to find Zerkow gone from the bed, + and would see him burrowing into some corner by the light of his + dark-lantern and would hear him mumbling to himself: “There were more'n a + hundred pieces, and every one of 'em gold—when the leather trunk was + opened it fair dazzled your eyes—why, just that punchbowl was worth + a fortune, I guess; solid, solid, heavy, rich, pure gold, nothun but gold, + gold, heaps and heaps of it—what a glory! I'll find it yet, I'll + find it. It's here somewheres, hid somewheres in this house.” + </p> + <p> + At length his continued ill success began to exasperate him. One day he + took his whip from his junk wagon and thrashed Maria with it, gasping the + while, “Where is it, you beast? Where is it? Tell me where it is; I'll + make you speak.” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, I don' know,” cried Maria, dodging his blows. “I'd tell you, + Zerkow, if I knew; but I don' know nothing about it. How can I tell you if + I don' know?” + </p> + <p> + Then one evening matters reached a crisis. Marcus Schouler was in his + room, the room in the flat just over McTeague's “Parlors” which he had + always occupied. It was between eleven and twelve o'clock. The vast house + was quiet; Polk Street outside was very still, except for the occasional + whirr and trundle of a passing cable car and the persistent calling of + ducks and geese in the deserted market directly opposite. Marcus was in + his shirt sleeves, perspiring and swearing with exertion as he tried to + get all his belongings into an absurdly inadequate trunk. The room was in + great confusion. It looked as though Marcus was about to move. He stood in + front of his trunk, his precious silk hat in its hat-box in his hand. He + was raging at the perverseness of a pair of boots that refused to fit in + his trunk, no matter how he arranged them. + </p> + <p> + “I've tried you SO, and I've tried you SO,” he exclaimed fiercely, between + his teeth, “and you won't go.” He began to swear horribly, grabbing at the + boots with his free hand. “Pretty soon I won't take you at all; I won't, + for a fact.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by a rush of feet upon the back stairs and a clamorous + pounding upon his door. He opened it to let in Maria Macapa, her hair + dishevelled and her eyes starting with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, MISTER Schouler,” she gasped, “lock the door quick. Don't let him get + me. He's got a knife, and he says sure he's going to do for me, if I don't + tell him where it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has? What has? Where is what?” shouted Marcus, flaming with + excitement upon the instant. He opened the door and peered down the dark + hall, both fists clenched, ready to fight—he did not know whom, and + he did not know why. + </p> + <p> + “It's Zerkow,” wailed Maria, pulling him back into the room and bolting + the door, “and he's got a knife as long as THAT. Oh, my Lord, here he + comes now! Ain't that him? Listen.” + </p> + <p> + Zerkow was coming up the stairs, calling for Maria. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you let him get me, will you, Mister Schouler?” gasped Maria. + </p> + <p> + “I'll break him in two,” shouted Marcus, livid with rage. “Think I'm + afraid of his knife?” + </p> + <p> + “I know where you are,” cried Zerkow, on the landing outside. “You're in + Schouler's room. What are you doing in Schouler's room at this time of + night? Come outa there; you oughta be ashamed. I'll do for you yet, my + girl. Come outa there once, an' see if I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do for you myself, you dirty Jew,” shouted Marcus, unbolting the + door and running out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I want my wife,” exclaimed the Jew, backing down the stairs. “What's she + mean by running away from me and going into your room?” + </p> + <p> + “Look out, he's got a knife!” cried Maria through the crack of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there you are. Come outa that, and come back home,” exclaimed Zerkow. + </p> + <p> + “Get outa here yourself,” cried Marcus, advancing on him angrily. “Get + outa here.” + </p> + <p> + “Maria's gota come too.” + </p> + <p> + “Get outa here,” vociferated Marcus, “an' put up that knife. I see it; you + needn't try an' hide it behind your leg. Give it to me, anyhow,” he + shouted suddenly, and before Zerkow was aware, Marcus had wrenched it + away. “Now, get outa here.” + </p> + <p> + Zerkow backed away, peering and peeping over Marcus's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I want Maria.” + </p> + <p> + “Get outa here. Get along out, or I'll PUT you out.” The street door + closed. The Jew was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted Marcus, swelling with arrogance. “Huh! Think I'm afraid of + his knife? I ain't afraid of ANYBODY,” he shouted pointedly, for McTeague + and his wife, roused by the clamor, were peering over the banisters from + the landing above. “Not of anybody,” repeated Marcus. + </p> + <p> + Maria came out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Is he gone? Is he sure gone?” + </p> + <p> + “What was the trouble?” inquired Marcus, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I woke up about an hour ago,” Maria explained, “and Zerkow wasn't in bed; + maybe he hadn't come to bed at all. He was down on his knees by the sink, + and he'd pried up some boards off the floor and was digging there. He had + his dark-lantern. He was digging with that knife, I guess, and all the + time he kept mumbling to himself, 'More'n a hundred pieces, an' every one + of 'em gold; more'n a hundred pieces, an' every one of 'em gold.' Then, + all of a sudden, he caught sight of me. I was sitting up in bed, and he + jumped up and came at me with his knife, an' he says, 'Where is it? Where + is it? I know you got it hid somewhere. Where is it? Tell me or I'll knife + you.' I kind of fooled him and kept him off till I got my wrapper on, an' + then I run out. I didn't dare stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did you tell him about your gold dishes for in the first + place?” cried Marcus. + </p> + <p> + “I never told him,” protested Maria, with the greatest energy. “I never + told him; I never heard of any gold dishes. I don' know where he got the + idea; he must be crazy.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Trina and McTeague, Old Grannis, and little Miss Baker—all + the lodgers on the upper floors of the flat—had gathered about + Maria. Trina and the dentist, who had gone to bed, were partially dressed, + and Trina's enormous mane of black hair was hanging in two thick braids + far down her back. But, late as it was, Old Grannis and the retired + dressmaker had still been up and about when Maria had aroused them. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Maria,” said Trina, “you always used to tell us about your gold + dishes. You said your folks used to have them.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never, never!” exclaimed Maria, vehemently. “You folks must all be + crazy. I never HEARD of any gold dishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” spoke up Miss Baker, “you're a queer girl, Maria; that's all I can + say.” She left the group and returned to her room. Old Grannis watched her + go from the corner of his eye, and in a few moments followed her, leaving + the group as unnoticed as he had joined it. By degrees the flat quieted + down again. Trina and McTeague returned to their rooms. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll go back now,” said Maria. “He's all right now. I ain't + afraid of him so long as he ain't got his knife.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say,” Marcus called to her as she went down stairs, “if he gets + funny again, you just yell out; I'LL hear you. I won't let him hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus went into his room again and resumed his wrangle with the + refractory boots. His eye fell on Zerkow's knife, a long, keen-bladed + hunting-knife, with a buckhorn handle. “I'll take you along with me,” he + exclaimed, suddenly. “I'll just need you where I'm going.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, old Miss Baker was making tea to calm her nerves after the + excitement of Maria's incursion. This evening she went so far as to make + tea for two, laying an extra place on the other side of her little + tea-table, setting out a cup and saucer and one of the Gorham silver + spoons. Close upon the other side of the partition Old Grannis bound uncut + numbers of the “Nation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I think, Mac?” said Trina, when the couple had returned + to their rooms. “I think Marcus is going away.” + </p> + <p> + “What? What?” muttered the dentist, very sleepy and stupid, “what you + saying? What's that about Marcus?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Marcus has been packing up, the last two or three days. I + wonder if he's going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's going away?” said McTeague, blinking at her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to bed,” said Trina, pushing him goodnaturedly. “Mac, you're the + stupidest man I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + But it was true. Marcus was going away. Trina received a letter the next + morning from her mother. The carpet-cleaning and upholstery business in + which Mr. Sieppe had involved himself was going from bad to worse. Mr. + Sieppe had even been obliged to put a mortgage upon their house. Mrs. + Sieppe didn't know what was to become of them all. Her husband had even + begun to talk of emigrating to New Zealand. Meanwhile, she informed Trina + that Mr. Sieppe had finally come across a man with whom Marcus could “go + in with on a ranch,” a cattle ranch in the southeastern portion of the + State. Her ideas were vague upon the subject, but she knew that Marcus was + wildly enthusiastic at the prospect, and was expected down before the end + of the month. In the meantime, could Trina send them fifty dollars? + </p> + <p> + “Marcus IS going away, after all, Mac,” said Trina to her husband that day + as he came out of his “Parlors” and sat down to the lunch of sausages, + mashed potatoes, and chocolate in the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” said the dentist, a little confused. “Who's going away? Schouler + going away? Why's Schouler going away?” + </p> + <p> + Trina explained. “Oh!” growled McTeague, behind his thick mustache, “he + can go far before I'LL stop him.” + </p> + <p> + “And, say, Mac,” continued Trina, pouring the chocolate, “what do you + think? Mamma wants me—wants us to send her fifty dollars. She says + they're hard up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the dentist, after a moment, “well, I guess we can send it, + can't we?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's easy to say,” complained Trina, her little chin in the air, + her small pale lips pursed. “I wonder if mamma thinks we're millionaires?” + </p> + <p> + “Trina, you're getting to be regular stingy,” muttered McTeague. “You're + getting worse and worse every day.” + </p> + <p> + “But fifty dollars is fifty dollars, Mac. Just think how long it takes you + to earn fifty dollars. Fifty dollars! That's two months of our interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said McTeague, easily, his mouth full of mashed potato, “you got a + lot saved up.” + </p> + <p> + Upon every reference to that little hoard in the brass match-safe and + chamois-skin bag at the bottom of her trunk, Trina bridled on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “Don't TALK that way, Mac. 'A lot of money.' What do you call a lot of + money? I don't believe I've got fifty dollars saved.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoh!” exclaimed McTeague. “Hoh! I guess you got nearer a hundred AN' + fifty. That's what I guess YOU got.” + </p> + <p> + “I've NOT, I've NOT,” declared Trina, “and you know I've not. I wish mamma + hadn't asked me for any money. Why can't she be a little more economical? + I manage all right. No, no, I can't possibly afford to send her fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw! What WILL you do, then?” grumbled her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I'll send her twenty-five this month, and tell her I'll send the rest as + soon as I can afford it.” + </p> + <p> + “Trina, you're a regular little miser,” said McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care,” answered Trina, beginning to laugh. “I guess I am, but I + can't help it, and it's a good fault.” + </p> + <p> + Trina put off sending this money for a couple of weeks, and her mother + made no mention of it in her next letter. “Oh, I guess if she wants it so + bad,” said Trina, “she'll speak about it again.” So she again postponed + the sending of it. Day by day she put it off. When her mother asked her + for it a second time, it seemed harder than ever for Trina to part with + even half the sum requested. She answered her mother, telling her that + they were very hard up themselves for that month, but that she would send + down the amount in a few weeks. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what we'll do, Mac,” she said to her husband, “you send + half and I'll send half; we'll send twenty-five dollars altogether. Twelve + and a half apiece. That's an idea. How will that do?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” McTeague had answered, giving her the money. Trina sent + McTeague's twelve dollars, but never sent the twelve that was to be her + share. One day the dentist happened to ask her about it. + </p> + <p> + “You sent that twenty-five to your mother, didn't you?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, long ago,” answered Trina, without thinking. + </p> + <p> + In fact, Trina never allowed herself to think very much of this affair. + And, in fact, another matter soon came to engross her attention. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday evening Trina and her husband were in their sitting-room + together. It was dark, but the lamp had not been lit. McTeague had brought + up some bottles of beer from the “Wein Stube” on the ground floor, where + the branch post-office used to be. But they had not opened the beer. It + was a warm evening in summer. Trina was sitting on McTeague's lap in the + bay window, and had looped back the Nottingham curtains so the two could + look out into the darkened street and watch the moon coming up over the + glass roof of the huge public baths. On occasions they sat like this for + an hour or so, “philandering,” Trina cuddling herself down upon McTeague's + enormous body, rubbing her cheek against the grain of his unshaven chin, + kissing the bald spot on the top of his head, or putting her fingers into + his ears and eyes. At times, a brusque access of passion would seize upon + her, and, with a nervous little sigh, she would clasp his thick red neck + in both her small arms and whisper in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me, Mac, dear? Love me BIG, BIG? Sure, do you love me as much + as you did when we were married?” + </p> + <p> + Puzzled, McTeague would answer: “Well, you know it, don't you, Trina?” + </p> + <p> + “But I want you to SAY so; say so always and always.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do, of course I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't say it of your own accord.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what—what—what—I don't understand,” stammered the + dentist, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock on the door. Confused and embarrassed, as if they were + not married, Trina scrambled off McTeague's lap, hastening to light the + lamp, whispering, “Put on your coat, Mac, and smooth your hair,” and + making gestures for him to put the beer bottles out of sight. She opened + the door and uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Cousin Mark!” she said. McTeague glared at him, struck speechless, + confused beyond expression. Marcus Schouler, perfectly at his ease, stood + in the doorway, smiling with great affability. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he remarked, “can I come in?” + </p> + <p> + Taken all aback, Trina could only answer: + </p> + <p> + “Why—I suppose so. Yes, of course—come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, come in,” exclaimed the dentist, suddenly, speaking without + thought. “Have some beer?” he added, struck with an idea. + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks, Doctor,” said Marcus, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + McTeague and Trina were puzzled. What could it all mean? Did Marcus want + to become reconciled to his enemy? “I know.” Trina said to herself. “He's + going away, and he wants to borrow some money. He won't get a penny, not a + penny.” She set her teeth together hard. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Marcus, “how's business, Doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said McTeague, uneasily, “oh, I don' know. I guess—I guess,” + he broke off in helpless embarrassment. They had all sat down by now. + Marcus continued, holding his hat and his cane—the black wand of + ebony with the gold top presented to him by the “Improvement Club.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he, wagging his head and looking about the sitting-room, “you + people have got the best fixed rooms in the whole flat. Yes, sir; you + have, for a fact.” He glanced from the lithograph framed in gilt and red + plush—the two little girls at their prayers—to the “I'm + Grandpa” and “I'm Grandma” pictures, noted the clean white matting and the + gay worsted tidies over the chair backs, and appeared to contemplate in + ecstasy the framed photograph of McTeague and Trina in their wedding + finery. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you two are pretty happy together, ain't you?” said he, smiling + good-humoredly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we don't complain,” answered Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of money, lots to do, everything fine, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “We've got lots to do,” returned Trina, thinking to head him off, “but + we've not got lots of money.” + </p> + <p> + But evidently Marcus wanted no money. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Cousin Trina,” he said, rubbing his knee, “I'm going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma wrote me; you're going on a ranch.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going in ranching with an English duck,” corrected Marcus. “Mr. + Sieppe has fixed things. We'll see if we can't raise some cattle. I know a + lot about horses, and he's ranched some before—this English duck. + And then I'm going to keep my eye open for a political chance down there. + I got some introductions from the President of the Improvement Club. I'll + work things somehow, oh, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “How long you going to be gone?” asked Trina. + </p> + <p> + Marcus stared. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I ain't EVER coming back,” he vociferated. “I'm going to-morrow, and + I'm going for good. I come to say good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus stayed for upwards of an hour that evening. He talked on easily and + agreeably, addressing himself as much to McTeague as to Trina. At last he + rose. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-by, Doc.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Marcus,” returned McTeague. The two shook hands. + </p> + <p> + “Guess we won't ever see each other again,” continued Marcus. “But good + luck to you, Doc. Hope some day you'll have the patients standing in line + on the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! I guess so, I guess so,” said the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Cousin Trina.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Marcus,” answered Trina. “You be sure to remember me to mamma, + and papa, and everybody. I'm going to make two great big sets of Noah's + ark animals for the twins on their next birthday; August is too old for + toys. But you can tell the twins that I'll make them some great big + animals. Good-by, success to you, Marcus.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, good-by. Good luck to you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Cousin Mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Marcus.” + </p> + <p> + He was gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 13 + </h2> + <p> + One morning about a week after Marcus had left for the southern part of + the State, McTeague found an oblong letter thrust through the letter-drop + of the door of his “Parlors.” The address was typewritten. He opened it. + The letter had been sent from the City Hall and was stamped in one corner + with the seal of the State of California, very official; the form and file + numbers superscribed. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had been making fillings when this letter arrived. He was in his + “Parlors,” pottering over his movable rack underneath the bird cage in the + bay window. He was making “blocks” to be used in large proximal cavities + and “cylinders” for commencing fillings. He heard the postman's step in + the hall and saw the envelopes begin to shuttle themselves through the + slit of his letter-drop. Then came the fat oblong envelope, with its + official seal, that dropped flatwise to the floor with a sodden, dull + impact. + </p> + <p> + The dentist put down the broach and scissors and gathered up his mail. + There were four letters altogether. One was for Trina, in Selina's + “elegant” handwriting; another was an advertisement of a new kind of + operating chair for dentists; the third was a card from a milliner on the + next block, announcing an opening; and the fourth, contained in the fat + oblong envelope, was a printed form with blanks left for names and dates, + and addressed to McTeague, from an office in the City Hall. McTeague read + it through laboriously. “I don' know, I don' know,” he muttered, looking + stupidly at the rifle manufacturer's calendar. Then he heard Trina, from + the kitchen, singing as she made a clattering noise with the breakfast + dishes. “I guess I'll ask Trina about it,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He went through the suite, by the sitting-room, where the sun was pouring + in through the looped backed Nottingham curtains upon the clean white + matting and the varnished surface of the melodeon, passed on through the + bedroom, with its framed lithographs of round-cheeked English babies and + alert fox terriers, and came out into the brick-paved kitchen. The kitchen + was clean as a new whistle; the freshly blackened cook stove glowed like a + negro's hide; the tins and porcelain-lined stew-pans might have been of + silver and of ivory. Trina was in the centre of the room, wiping off, with + a damp sponge, the oilcloth table-cover, on which they had breakfasted. + Never had she looked so pretty. Early though it was, her enormous tiara of + swarthy hair was neatly combed and coiled, not a pin was so much as loose. + She wore a blue calico skirt with a white figure, and a belt of imitation + alligator skin clasped around her small, firmly-corseted waist; her shirt + waist was of pink linen, so new and crisp that it crackled with every + movement, while around the collar, tied in a neat knot, was one of + McTeague's lawn ties which she had appropriated. Her sleeves were + carefully rolled up almost to her shoulders, and nothing could have been + more delicious than the sight of her small round arms, white as milk, + moving back and forth as she sponged the table-cover, a faint touch of + pink coming and going at the elbows as they bent and straightened. She + looked up quickly as her husband entered, her narrow eyes alight, her + adorable little chin in the air; her lips rounded and opened with the last + words of her song, so that one could catch a glint of gold in the fillings + of her upper teeth. + </p> + <p> + The whole scene—the clean kitchen and its clean brick floor; the + smell of coffee that lingered in the air; Trina herself, fresh as if from + a bath, and singing at her work; the morning sun, striking obliquely + through the white muslin half-curtain of the window and spanning the + little kitchen with a bridge of golden mist—gave off, as it were, a + note of gayety that was not to be resisted. Through the opened top of the + window came the noises of Polk Street, already long awake. One heard the + chanting of street cries, the shrill calling of children on their way to + school, the merry rattle of a butcher's cart, the brisk noise of + hammering, or the occasional prolonged roll of a cable car trundling + heavily past, with a vibrant whirring of its jostled glass and the joyous + clanging of its bells. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mac, dear?” said Trina. + </p> + <p> + McTeague shut the door behind him with his heel and handed her the letter. + Trina read it through. Then suddenly her small hand gripped tightly upon + the sponge, so that the water started from it and dripped in a little + pattering deluge upon the bricks. + </p> + <p> + The letter—or rather printed notice—informed McTeague that he + had never received a diploma from a dental college, and that in + consequence he was forbidden to practise his profession any longer. A + legal extract bearing upon the case was attached in small type. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's all this?” said Trina, calmly, without thought as yet. + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, I don' know,” answered her husband. + </p> + <p> + “You can't practise any longer,” continued Trina,—“'is herewith + prohibited and enjoined from further continuing——'” She + re-read the extract, her forehead lifting and puckering. She put the + sponge carefully away in its wire rack over the sink, and drew up a chair + to the table, spreading out the notice before her. “Sit down,” she said to + McTeague. “Draw up to the table here, Mac, and let's see what this is.” + </p> + <p> + “I got it this morning,” murmured the dentist. “It just now came. I was + making some fillings—there, in the 'Parlors,' in the window—and + the postman shoved it through the door. I thought it was a number of the + 'American System of Dentistry' at first, and when I'd opened it and looked + at it I thought I'd better——” + </p> + <p> + “Say, Mac,” interrupted Trina, looking up from the notice, “DIDN'T you + ever go to a dental college?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What? What?” exclaimed McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “How did you learn to be a dentist? Did you go to a college?” + </p> + <p> + “I went along with a fellow who came to the mine once. My mother sent me. + We used to go from one camp to another. I sharpened his excavators for + him, and put up his notices in the towns—stuck them up in the + post-offices and on the doors of the Odd Fellows' halls. He had a wagon.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't you never go to a college?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What? College? No, I never went. I learned from the fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Trina rolled down her sleeves. She was a little paler than usual. She + fastened the buttons into the cuffs and said: + </p> + <p> + “But do you know you can't practise unless you're graduated from a + college? You haven't the right to call yourself, 'doctor.'” + </p> + <p> + McTeague stared a moment; then: + </p> + <p> + “Why, I've been practising ten years. More—nearly twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's the law.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the law?” + </p> + <p> + “That you can't practise, or call yourself doctor, unless you've got a + diploma.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that—a diploma?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly. It's a kind of paper that—that—oh, Mac, + we're ruined.” Trina's voice rose to a cry. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Trina? Ain't I a dentist? Ain't I a doctor? Look at my + sign, and the gold tooth you gave me. Why, I've been practising nearly + twelve years.” + </p> + <p> + Trina shut her lips tightly, cleared her throat, and pretended to resettle + a hair-pin at the back of her head. + </p> + <p> + “I guess it isn't as bad as that,” she said, very quietly. “Let's read + this again. 'Herewith prohibited and enjoined from further continuing——'” + She read to the end. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it isn't possible,” she cried. “They can't mean—oh, Mac, I do + believe—pshaw!” she exclaimed, her pale face flushing. “They don't + know how good a dentist you are. What difference does a diploma make, if + you're a first-class dentist? I guess that's all right. Mac, didn't you + ever go to a dental college?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered McTeague, doggedly. “What was the good? I learned how to + operate; wa'n't that enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Hark,” said Trina, suddenly. “Wasn't that the bell of your office?” They + had both heard the jangling of the bell that McTeague had hung over the + door of his “Parlors.” The dentist looked at the kitchen clock. + </p> + <p> + “That's Vanovitch,” said he. “He's a plumber round on Sutter Street. He's + got an appointment with me to have a bicuspid pulled. I got to go back to + work.” He rose. + </p> + <p> + “But you can't,” cried Trina, the back of her hand upon her lips, her eyes + brimming. “Mac, don't you see? Can't you understand? You've got to stop. + Oh, it's dreadful! Listen.” She hurried around the table to him and caught + his arm in both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” growled McTeague, looking at her with a puzzled frown. + </p> + <p> + “They'll arrest you. You'll go to prison. You can't work—can't work + any more. We're ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Vanovitch was pounding on the door of the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be gone in a minute,” exclaimed McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him go. Tell him to go; tell him to come again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's got an APPOINTMENT with me,” exclaimed McTeague, his hand upon + the door. + </p> + <p> + Trina caught him back. “But, Mac, you ain't a dentist any longer; you + ain't a doctor. You haven't the right to work. You never went to a dental + college.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose I never went to a college, ain't I a dentist just the same? + Listen, he's pounding there again. No, I'm going, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, go,” said Trina, with sudden reaction. “It ain't + possible they'll make you stop. If you're a good dentist, that's all + that's wanted. Go on, Mac; hurry, before he goes.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague went out, closing the door. Trina stood for a moment looking + intently at the bricks at her feet. Then she returned to the table, and + sat down again before the notice, and, resting her head in both her fists, + read it yet another time. Suddenly the conviction seized upon her that it + was all true. McTeague would be obliged to stop work, no matter how good a + dentist he was. But why had the authorities at the City Hall waited this + long before serving the notice? All at once Trina snapped her fingers, + with a quick flash of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “It's Marcus that's done it,” she cried. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was like a clap of thunder. McTeague was stunned, stupefied. He said + nothing. Never in his life had he been so taciturn. At times he did not + seem to hear Trina when she spoke to him, and often she had to shake him + by the shoulder to arouse his attention. He would sit apart in his + “Parlors,” turning the notice about in his enormous clumsy fingers, + reading it stupidly over and over again. He couldn't understand. What had + a clerk at the City Hall to do with him? Why couldn't they let him alone? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what's to become of us NOW?” wailed Trina. “What's to become of us + now? We're paupers, beggars—and all so sudden.” And once, in a + quick, inexplicable fury, totally unlike anything that McTeague had + noticed in her before, she had started up, with fists and teeth shut + tight, and had cried, “Oh, if you'd only KILLED Marcus Schouler that time + he fought you!” + </p> + <p> + McTeague had continued his work, acting from sheer force of habit; his + sluggish, deliberate nature, methodical, obstinate, refusing to adapt + itself to the new conditions. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe Marcus was only trying to scare us,” Trina had said. “How are they + going to know whether you're practising or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I got a mould to make to-morrow,” McTeague said, “and Vanovitch, that + plumber round on Sutter Street, he's coming again at three.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you go right ahead,” Trina told him, decisively; “you go right + ahead and make the mould, and pull every tooth in Vanovitch's head if you + want to. Who's going to know? Maybe they just sent that notice as a matter + of form. Maybe Marcus got that paper and filled it in himself.” + </p> + <p> + The two would lie awake all night long, staring up into the dark, talking, + talking, talking. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you got any right to practise if you've not been to a dental + college, Mac? Didn't you ever go?” Trina would ask again and again. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” answered the dentist, “I never went. I learnt from the fellow I + was apprenticed to. I don' know anything about a dental college. Ain't I + got a right to do as I like?” he suddenly exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “If you know your profession, isn't that enough?” cried Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” growled McTeague. “I ain't going to stop for them.” + </p> + <p> + “You go right on,” Trina said, “and I bet you won't hear another word + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I go round to the City Hall and see them,” hazarded McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, don't you do it, Mac,” exclaimed Trina. “Because, if Marcus has + done this just to scare you, they won't know anything about it there at + the City Hall; but they'll begin to ask you questions, and find out that + you never HAD graduated from a dental college, and you'd be just as bad + off as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't going to quit for just a piece of paper,” declared the + dentist. The phrase stuck to him. All day long he went about their rooms + or continued at his work in the “Parlors,” growling behind his thick + mustache: “I ain't going to quit for just a piece of paper. No, I ain't + going to quit for just a piece of paper. Sure not.” + </p> + <p> + The days passed, a week went by, McTeague continued his work as usual. + They heard no more from the City Hall, but the suspense of the situation + was harrowing. Trina was actually sick with it. The terror of the thing + was ever at their elbows, going to bed with them, sitting down with them + at breakfast in the kitchen, keeping them company all through the day. + Trina dared not think of what would be their fate if the income derived + from McTeague's practice was suddenly taken from them. Then they would + have to fall back on the interest of her lottery money and the pittance + she derived from the manufacture of the Noah's ark animals, a little over + thirty dollars a month. No, no, it was not to be thought of. It could not + be that their means of livelihood was to be thus stricken from them. + </p> + <p> + A fortnight went by. “I guess we're all right, Mac,” Trina allowed herself + to say. “It looks as though we were all right. How are they going to tell + whether you're practising or not?” + </p> + <p> + That day a second and much more peremptory notice was served upon McTeague + by an official in person. Then suddenly Trina was seized with a panic + terror, unreasoned, instinctive. If McTeague persisted they would both be + sent to a prison, she was sure of it; a place where people were chained to + the wall, in the dark, and fed on bread and water. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac, you've got to quit,” she wailed. “You can't go on. They can make + you stop. Oh, why didn't you go to a dental college? Why didn't you find + out that you had to have a college degree? And now we're paupers, beggars. + We've got to leave here—leave this flat where I've been—where + WE'VE been so happy, and sell all the pretty things; sell the pictures and + the melodeon, and—Oh, it's too dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Huh? What? What?” exclaimed the dentist, bewildered. “I ain't going + to quit for just a piece of paper. Let them put me out. I'll show them. + They—they can't make small of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all very fine to talk that way, but you'll have to quit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we ain't paupers,” McTeague suddenly exclaimed, an idea entering + his mind. “We've got our money yet. You've got your five thousand dollars + and the money you've been saving up. People ain't paupers when they've got + over five thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Mac?” cried Trina, apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we can live on THAT money until—until—until—” he + broke off with an uncertain movement of his shoulders, looking about him + stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “Until WHEN?” cried Trina. “There ain't ever going to be any 'until.' + We've got the INTEREST of that five thousand and we've got what Uncle + Oelbermann gives me, a little over thirty dollars a month, and that's all + we've got. You'll have to find something else to do.” + </p> + <p> + “What will I find to do?” + </p> + <p> + What, indeed? McTeague was over thirty now, sluggish and slow-witted at + best. What new trade could he learn at this age? + </p> + <p> + Little by little Trina made the dentist understand the calamity that had + befallen them, and McTeague at last began cancelling his appointments. + Trina gave it out that he was sick. + </p> + <p> + “Not a soul need know what's happened to us,” she said to her husband. + </p> + <p> + But it was only by slow degrees that McTeague abandoned his profession. + Every morning after breakfast he would go into his “Parlors” as usual and + potter about his instruments, his dental engine, and his washstand in the + corner behind his screen where he made his moulds. Now he would sharpen a + “hoe” excavator, now he would busy himself for a whole hour making “mats” + and “cylinders.” Then he would look over his slate where he kept a record + of his appointments. + </p> + <p> + One day Trina softly opened the door of the “Parlors” and came in from the + sitting-room. She had not heard McTeague moving about for some time and + had begun to wonder what he was doing. She came in, quietly shutting the + door behind her. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had tidied the room with the greatest care. The volumes of the + “Practical Dentist” and the “American System of Dentistry” were piled upon + the marble-top centre-table in rectangular blocks. The few chairs were + drawn up against the wall under the steel engraving of “Lorenzo de' + Medici” with more than usual precision. The dental engine and the + nickelled trimmings of the operating chair had been furbished till they + shone, while on the movable rack in the bay window McTeague had arranged + his instruments with the greatest neatness and regularity. “Hoe” + excavators, pluggers, forceps, pliers, corundum disks and burrs, even the + boxwood mallet that Trina was never to use again, all were laid out and + ready for immediate use. + </p> + <p> + McTeague himself sat in his operating chair, looking stupidly out of the + windows, across the roofs opposite, with an unseeing gaze, his red hands + lying idly in his lap. Trina came up to him. There was something in his + eyes that made her put both arms around his neck and lay his huge head + with its coarse blond hair upon her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I—I got everything fixed,” he said. “I got everything fixed an' + ready. See, everything ready an' waiting, an'—an'—an' nobody + comes, an' nobody's ever going to come any more. Oh, Trina!” He put his + arms about her and drew her down closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, dear; never mind,” cried Trina, through her tears. “It'll all + come right in the end, and we'll be poor together if we have to. You can + sure find something else to do. We'll start in again.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the slate there,” said McTeague, pulling away from her and + reaching down the slate on which he kept a record of his appointments. + “Look at them. There's Vanovitch at two on Wednesday, and Loughhead's wife + Thursday morning, and Heise's little girl Thursday afternoon at + one-thirty; Mrs. Watson on Friday, and Vanovitch again Saturday morning + early—at seven. That's what I was to have had, and they ain't going + to come. They ain't ever going to come any more.” + </p> + <p> + Trina took the little slate from him and looked at it ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “Rub them out,” she said, her voice trembling; “rub it all out;” and as + she spoke her eyes brimmed again, and a great tear dropped on the slate. + “That's it,” she said; “that's the way to rub it out, by me crying on it.” + Then she passed her fingers over the tear-blurred writing and washed the + slate clean. “All gone, all gone,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “All gone,” echoed the dentist. There was a silence. Then McTeague heaved + himself up to his full six feet two, his face purpling, his enormous + mallet-like fists raised over his head. His massive jaw protruded more + than ever, while his teeth clicked and grated together; then he growled: + </p> + <p> + “If ever I meet Marcus Schouler—” he broke off abruptly, the white + of his eyes growing suddenly pink. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if ever you DO,” exclaimed Trina, catching her breath. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 14 + </h2> + <p> + “Well, what do you think?” said Trina. + </p> + <p> + She and McTeague stood in a tiny room at the back of the flat and on its + very top floor. The room was whitewashed. It contained a bed, three + cane-seated chairs, and a wooden washstand with its washbowl and pitcher. + From its single uncurtained window one looked down into the flat's dirty + back yard and upon the roofs of the hovels that bordered the alley in the + rear. There was a rag carpet on the floor. In place of a closet some dozen + wooden pegs were affixed to the wall over the washstand. There was a smell + of cheap soap and of ancient hair-oil in the air. + </p> + <p> + “That's a single bed,” said Trina, “but the landlady says she'll put in a + double one for us. You see——” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't going to live here,” growled McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got to live somewhere,” said Trina, impatiently. “We've + looked Polk Street over, and this is the only thing we can afford.” + </p> + <p> + “Afford, afford,” muttered the dentist. “You with your five thousand + dollars, and the two or three hundred you got saved up, talking about + 'afford.' You make me sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mac,” exclaimed Trina, deliberately, sitting down in one of the + cane-seated chairs; “now, Mac, let's have this thing——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't figure on living in one room,” growled the dentist, + sullenly. “Let's live decently until we can get a fresh start. We've got + the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's got the money?” + </p> + <p> + “WE'VE got it.” + </p> + <p> + “We!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's all in the family. What's yours is mine, and what's mine is + yours, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not; no, it's not,” cried Trina, vehemently. “It's all mine, + mine. There's not a penny of it belongs to anybody else. I don't like to + have to talk this way to you, but you just make me. We're not going to + touch a penny of my five thousand nor a penny of that little money I + managed to save—that seventy-five.” + </p> + <p> + “That TWO hundred, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “That SEVENTY-FIVE. We're just going to live on the interest of that and + on what I earn from Uncle Oelbermann—on just that thirty-one or two + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Think I'm going to do that, an' live in such a room as this?” + </p> + <p> + Trina folded her arms and looked him squarely in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what ARE you going to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, what ARE you going to do? You can go on and find something to do + and earn some more money, and THEN we'll talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't going to live here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, suit yourself. I'M going to live here.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll live where I TELL you,” the dentist suddenly cried, exasperated at + the mincing tone she affected. + </p> + <p> + “Then YOU'LL pay the rent,” exclaimed Trina, quite as angry as he. + </p> + <p> + “Are you my boss, I'd like to know? Who's the boss, you or I?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's got the MONEY, I'd like to know?” cried Trina, flushing to her pale + lips. “Answer me that, McTeague, who's got the money?” + </p> + <p> + “You make me sick, you and your money. Why, you're a miser. I never saw + anything like it. When I was practising, I never thought of my fees as my + own; we lumped everything in together.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly; and I'M doing the working now. I'm working for Uncle Oelbermann, + and you're not lumping in ANYTHING now. I'm doing it all. Do you know what + I'm doing, McTeague? I'm supporting you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, shut up; you make me sick.” + </p> + <p> + “You got no RIGHT to talk to me that way. I won't let you. I—I won't + have it.” She caught her breath. Tears were in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, live where you like, then,” said McTeague, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, shall we take this room then?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, we'll take it. But why can't you take a little of your money + an'—an'—sort of fix it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny, not a single penny.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't care WHAT you do.” And for the rest of the day the dentist + and his wife did not speak. + </p> + <p> + This was not the only quarrel they had during these days when they were + occupied in moving from their suite and in looking for new quarters. Every + hour the question of money came up. Trina had become more niggardly than + ever since the loss of McTeague's practice. It was not mere economy with + her now. It was a panic terror lest a fraction of a cent of her little + savings should be touched; a passionate eagerness to continue to save in + spite of all that had happened. Trina could have easily afforded better + quarters than the single whitewashed room at the top of the flat, but she + made McTeague believe that it was impossible. + </p> + <p> + “I can still save a little,” she said to herself, after the room had been + engaged; “perhaps almost as much as ever. I'll have three hundred dollars + pretty soon, and Mac thinks it's only two hundred. It's almost two hundred + and fifty; and I'll get a good deal out of the sale.” + </p> + <p> + But this sale was a long agony. It lasted a week. Everything went—everything + but the few big pieces that went with the suite, and that belonged to the + photographer. The melodeon, the chairs, the black walnut table before + which they were married, the extension table in the sitting-room, the + kitchen table with its oilcloth cover, the framed lithographs from the + English illustrated papers, the very carpets on the floors. But Trina's + heart nearly broke when the kitchen utensils and furnishings began to go. + Every pot, every stewpan, every knife and fork, was an old friend. How she + had worked over them! How clean she had kept them! What a pleasure it had + been to invade that little brick-paved kitchen every morning, and to wash + up and put to rights after breakfast, turning on the hot water at the + sink, raking down the ashes in the cook-stove, going and coming over the + warm bricks, her head in the air, singing at her work, proud in the sense + of her proprietorship and her independence! How happy had she been the day + after her marriage when she had first entered that kitchen and knew that + it was all her own! And how well she remembered her raids upon the bargain + counters in the house-furnishing departments of the great down-town + stores! And now it was all to go. Some one else would have it all, while + she was relegated to cheap restaurants and meals cooked by hired servants. + Night after night she sobbed herself to sleep at the thought of her past + happiness and her present wretchedness. However, she was not alone in her + unhappiness. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I'm going to keep the steel engraving an' the stone pug dog,” + declared the dentist, his fist clenching. When it had come to the sale of + his office effects McTeague had rebelled with the instinctive obstinacy of + a boy, shutting his eyes and ears. Only little by little did Trina induce + him to part with his office furniture. He fought over every article, over + the little iron stove, the bed-lounge, the marble-topped centre table, the + whatnot in the corner, the bound volumes of “Allen's Practical Dentist,” + the rifle manufacturer's calendar, and the prim, military chairs. A + veritable scene took place between him and his wife before he could bring + himself to part with the steel engraving of “Lorenzo de' Medici and His + Court” and the stone pug dog with its goggle eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he would cry, “I've had 'em ever since—ever since I BEGAN; + long before I knew you, Trina. That steel engraving I bought in Sacramento + one day when it was raining. I saw it in the window of a second-hand + store, and a fellow GAVE me that stone pug dog. He was a druggist. It was + in Sacramento too. We traded. I gave him a shaving-mug and a razor, and he + gave me the pug dog.” + </p> + <p> + There were, however, two of his belongings that even Trina could not + induce him to part with. + </p> + <p> + “And your concertina, Mac,” she prompted, as they were making out the list + for the second-hand dealer. “The concertina, and—oh, yes, the canary + and the bird cage.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Mac, you MUST be reasonable. The concertina would bring quite a sum, and + the bird cage is as good as new. I'll sell the canary to the bird-store + man on Kearney Street.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're going to make objections to every single thing, we might as + well quit. Come, now, Mac, the concertina and the bird cage. We'll put + them in Lot D.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to come to it sooner or later. I'M giving up everything. I'm + going to put them down, see.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + And she could get no further than that. The dentist did not lose his + temper, as in the case of the steel engraving or the stone pug dog; he + simply opposed her entreaties and persuasions with a passive, inert + obstinacy that nothing could move. In the end Trina was obliged to submit. + McTeague kept his concertina and his canary, even going so far as to put + them both away in the bedroom, attaching to them tags on which he had + scrawled in immense round letters, “Not for Sale.” + </p> + <p> + One evening during that same week the dentist and his wife were in the + dismantled sitting-room. The room presented the appearance of a wreck. The + Nottingham lace curtains were down. The extension table was heaped high + with dishes, with tea and coffee pots, and with baskets of spoons and + knives and forks. The melodeon was hauled out into the middle of the + floor, and covered with a sheet marked “Lot A,” the pictures were in a + pile in a corner, the chenille portieres were folded on top of the black + walnut table. The room was desolate, lamentable. Trina was going over the + inventory; McTeague, in his shirt sleeves, was smoking his pipe, looking + stupidly out of the window. All at once there was a brisk rapping at the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” called Trina, apprehensively. Now-a-days at every unexpected + visit she anticipated a fresh calamity. The door opened to let in a young + man wearing a checked suit, a gay cravat, and a marvellously figured + waistcoat. Trina and McTeague recognized him at once. It was the Other + Dentist, the debonair fellow whose clients were the barbers and the young + women of the candy stores and soda-water fountains, the poser, the wearer + of waistcoats, who bet money on greyhound races. + </p> + <p> + “How'do?” said this one, bowing gracefully to the McTeagues as they stared + at him distrustfully. + </p> + <p> + “How'do? They tell me, Doctor, that you are going out of the profession.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague muttered indistinctly behind his mustache and glowered at him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, say,” continued the other, cheerily, “I'd like to talk business + with you. That sign of yours, that big golden tooth that you got outside + of your window, I don't suppose you'll have any further use for it. Maybe + I'd buy it if we could agree on terms.” + </p> + <p> + Trina shot a glance at her husband. McTeague began to glower again. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” said the Other Dentist. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” growled McTeague + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to ten dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten dollars!” cried Trina, her chin in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what figure DO you put on it?” + </p> + <p> + Trina was about to answer when she was interrupted by McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “You go out of here.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey? What?” + </p> + <p> + “You go out of here.” + </p> + <p> + The other retreated toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “You can't make small of me. Go out of here.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague came forward a step, his great red fist clenching. The young man + fled. But half way down the stairs he paused long enough to call back: + </p> + <p> + “You don't want to trade anything for a diploma, do you?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague and his wife exchanged looks. + </p> + <p> + “How did he know?” exclaimed Trina, sharply. They had invented and spread + the fiction that McTeague was merely retiring from business, without + assigning any reason. But evidently every one knew the real cause. The + humiliation was complete now. Old Miss Baker confirmed their suspicions on + this point the next day. The little retired dressmaker came down and wept + with Trina over her misfortune, and did what she could to encourage her. + But she too knew that McTeague had been forbidden by the authorities from + practising. Marcus had evidently left them no loophole of escape. + </p> + <p> + “It's just like cutting off your husband's hands, my dear,” said Miss + Baker. “And you two were so happy. When I first saw you together I said, + 'What a pair!'” + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis also called during this period of the breaking up of the + McTeague household. + </p> + <p> + “Dreadful, dreadful,” murmured the old Englishman, his hand going + tremulously to his chin. “It seems unjust; it does. But Mr. Schouler could + not have set them on to do it. I can't quite believe it of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Marcus!” cried Trina. “Hoh! Why, he threw his knife at Mac one time, + and another time he bit him, actually bit him with his teeth, while they + were wrestling just for fun. Marcus would do anything to injure Mac.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear,” returned Old Grannis, genuinely pained. “I had always + believed Schouler to be such a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “That's because you're so good yourself, Mr. Grannis,” responded Trina. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what, Doc,” declared Heise the harness-maker, shaking his + finger impressively at the dentist, “you must fight it; you must appeal to + the courts; you've been practising too long to be debarred now. The + statute of limitations, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” Trina had exclaimed, when the dentist had repeated this advice + to her. “No, no, don't go near the law courts. I know them. The lawyers + take all your money, and you lose your case. We're bad off as it is, + without lawing about it.” + </p> + <p> + Then at last came the sale. McTeague and Trina, whom Miss Baker had + invited to her room for that day, sat there side by side, holding each + other's hands, listening nervously to the turmoil that rose to them from + the direction of their suite. From nine o'clock till dark the crowds came + and went. All Polk Street seemed to have invaded the suite, lured on by + the red flag that waved from the front windows. It was a fete, a veritable + holiday, for the whole neighborhood. People with no thought of buying + presented themselves. Young women—the candy-store girls and + florist's apprentices—came to see the fun, walking arm in arm from + room to room, making jokes about the pretty lithographs and mimicking the + picture of the two little girls saying their prayers. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” they would cry, “look here what she used for curtains—NOTTINGHAM + lace, actually! Whoever thinks of buying Nottingham lace now-a-days? Say, + don't that JAR you?” + </p> + <p> + “And a melodeon,” another one would exclaim, lifting the sheet. “A + melodeon, when you can rent a piano for a dollar a week; and say, I really + believe they used to eat in the kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + “Dollarn-half, dollarn-half, dollarn-half, give me two,” intoned the + auctioneer from the second-hand store. By noon the crowd became a jam. + Wagons backed up to the curb outside and departed heavily laden. In all + directions people could be seen going away from the house, carrying small + articles of furniture—a clock, a water pitcher, a towel rack. Every + now and then old Miss Baker, who had gone below to see how things were + progressing, returned with reports of the foray. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Heise bought the chenille portieres. Mister Ryer made a bid for your + bed, but a man in a gray coat bid over him. It was knocked down for three + dollars and a half. The German shoe-maker on the next block bought the + stone pug dog. I saw our postman going away with a lot of the pictures. + Zerkow has come, on my word! the rags-bottles-sacks man; he's buying lots; + he bought all Doctor McTeague's gold tape and some of the instruments. + Maria's there too. That dentist on the corner took the dental engine, and + wanted to get the sign, the big gold tooth,” and so on and so on. Cruelest + of all, however, at least to Trina, was when Miss Baker herself began to + buy, unable to resist a bargain. The last time she came up she carried a + bundle of the gay tidies that used to hang over the chair backs. + </p> + <p> + “He offered them, three for a nickel,” she explained to Trina, “and I + thought I'd spend just a quarter. You don't mind, now, do you, Mrs. + McTeague?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, of course not, Miss Baker,” answered Trina, bravely. + </p> + <p> + “They'll look very pretty on some of my chairs,” went on the little old + dressmaker, innocently. “See.” She spread one of them on a chair back for + inspection. Trina's chin quivered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, VERY pretty,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + At length that dreadful day was over. The crowd dispersed. Even the + auctioneer went at last, and as he closed the door with a bang, the + reverberation that went through the suite gave evidence of its emptiness. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Trina to the dentist, “let's go down and look—take a + last look.” + </p> + <p> + They went out of Miss Baker's room and descended to the floor below. On + the stairs, however, they were met by Old Grannis. In his hands he carried + a little package. Was it possible that he too had taken advantage of their + misfortunes to join in the raid upon the suite? + </p> + <p> + “I went in,” he began, timidly, “for—for a few moments. This”—he + indicated the little package he carried—“this was put up. It was of + no value but to you. I—I ventured to bid it in. I thought perhaps”—his + hand went to his chin, “that you wouldn't mind; that—in fact, I + bought it for you—as a present. Will you take it?” He handed the + package to Trina and hurried on. Trina tore off the wrappings. + </p> + <p> + It was the framed photograph of McTeague and his wife in their wedding + finery, the one that had been taken immediately after the marriage. It + represented Trina sitting very erect in a rep armchair, holding her + wedding bouquet straight before her, McTeague standing at her side, his + left foot forward, one hand upon her shoulder, and the other thrust into + the breast of his “Prince Albert” coat, in the attitude of a statue of a + Secretary of State. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it WAS good of him, it WAS good of him,” cried Trina, her eyes + filling again. “I had forgotten to put it away. Of course it was not for + sale.” + </p> + <p> + They went on down the stairs, and arriving at the door of the + sitting-room, opened it and looked in. It was late in the afternoon, and + there was just light enough for the dentist and his wife to see the + results of that day of sale. Nothing was left, not even the carpet. It was + a pillage, a devastation, the barrenness of a field after the passage of a + swarm of locusts. The room had been picked and stripped till only the bare + walls and floor remained. Here where they had been married, where the + wedding supper had taken place, where Trina had bade farewell to her + father and mother, here where she had spent those first few hard months of + her married life, where afterward she had grown to be happy and contented, + where she had passed the long hours of the afternoon at her work of + whittling, and where she and her husband had spent so many evenings + looking out of the window before the lamp was lit—here in what had + been her home, nothing was left but echoes and the emptiness of complete + desolation. Only one thing remained. On the wall between the windows, in + its oval glass frame, preserved by some unknown and fearful process, a + melancholy relic of a vanished happiness, unsold, neglected, and + forgotten, a thing that nobody wanted, hung Trina's wedding bouquet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 15 + </h2> + <p> + Then the grind began. It would have been easier for the McTeagues to have + faced their misfortunes had they befallen them immediately after their + marriage, when their love for each other was fresh and fine, and when they + could have found a certain happiness in helping each other and sharing + each other's privations. Trina, no doubt, loved her husband more than + ever, in the sense that she felt she belonged to him. But McTeague's + affection for his wife was dwindling a little every day—HAD been + dwindling for a long time, in fact. He had become used to her by now. She + was part of the order of the things with which he found himself + surrounded. He saw nothing extraordinary about her; it was no longer a + pleasure for him to kiss her and take her in his arms; she was merely his + wife. He did not dislike her; he did not love her. She was his wife, that + was all. But he sadly missed and regretted all those little animal + comforts which in the old prosperous life Trina had managed to find for + him. He missed the cabbage soups and steaming chocolate that Trina had + taught him to like; he missed his good tobacco that Trina had educated him + to prefer; he missed the Sunday afternoon walks that she had caused him to + substitute in place of his nap in the operating chair; and he missed the + bottled beer that she had induced him to drink in place of the steam beer + from Frenna's. In the end he grew morose and sulky, and sometimes + neglected to answer his wife when she spoke to him. Besides this, Trina's + avarice was a perpetual annoyance to him. Oftentimes when a considerable + alleviation of this unhappiness could have been obtained at the expense of + a nickel or a dime, Trina refused the money with a pettishness that was + exasperating. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she would exclaim. “To ride to the park Sunday afternoon, that + means ten cents, and I can't afford it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's walk there, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got to work.” + </p> + <p> + “But you've worked morning and afternoon every day this week.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care, I've got to work.” + </p> + <p> + There had been a time when Trina had hated the idea of McTeague drinking + steam beer as common and vulgar. + </p> + <p> + “Say, let's have a bottle of beer to-night. We haven't had a drop of beer + in three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't afford it. It's fifteen cents a bottle.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't had a swallow of beer in three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink STEAM beer, then. You've got a nickel. I gave you a quarter day + before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't like steam beer now.” + </p> + <p> + It was so with everything. Unfortunately, Trina had cultivated tastes in + McTeague which now could not be gratified. He had come to be very proud of + his silk hat and “Prince Albert” coat, and liked to wear them on Sundays. + Trina had made him sell both. He preferred “Yale mixture” in his pipe; + Trina had made him come down to “Mastiff,” a five-cent tobacco with which + he was once contented, but now abhorred. He liked to wear clean cuffs; + Trina allowed him a fresh pair on Sundays only. At first these + deprivations angered McTeague. Then, all of a sudden, he slipped back into + the old habits (that had been his before he knew Trina) with an ease that + was surprising. Sundays he dined at the car conductors' coffee-joint once + more, and spent the afternoon lying full length upon the bed, crop-full, + stupid, warm, smoking his huge pipe, drinking his steam beer, and playing + his six mournful tunes upon his concertina, dozing off to sleep towards + four o'clock. + </p> + <p> + The sale of their furniture had, after paying the rent and outstanding + bills, netted about a hundred and thirty dollars. Trina believed that the + auctioneer from the second-hand store had swindled and cheated them and + had made a great outcry to no effect. But she had arranged the affair with + the auctioneer herself, and offset her disappointment in the matter of the + sale by deceiving her husband as to the real amount of the returns. It was + easy to lie to McTeague, who took everything for granted; and since the + occasion of her trickery with the money that was to have been sent to her + mother, Trina had found falsehood easier than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Seventy dollars is all the auctioneer gave me,” she told her husband; + “and after paying the balance due on the rent, and the grocer's bill, + there's only fifty left.” + </p> + <p> + “Only fifty?” murmured McTeague, wagging his head, “only fifty? Think of + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Only fifty,” declared Trina. Afterwards she said to herself with a + certain admiration for her cleverness: + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't save sixty dollars much easier than that,” and she had added the + hundred and thirty to the little hoard in the chamois-skin bag and brass + match-box in the bottom of her trunk. + </p> + <p> + In these first months of their misfortunes the routine of the McTeagues + was as follows: They rose at seven and breakfasted in their room, Trina + cooking the very meagre meal on an oil stove. Immediately after breakfast + Trina sat down to her work of whittling the Noah's ark animals, and + McTeague took himself off to walk down town. He had by the greatest good + luck secured a position with a manufacturer of surgical instruments, where + his manual dexterity in the making of excavators, pluggers, and other + dental contrivances stood him in fairly good stead. He lunched at a + sailor's boarding-house near the water front, and in the afternoon worked + till six. He was home at six-thirty, and he and Trina had supper together + in the “ladies' dining parlor,” an adjunct of the car conductors' + coffee-joint. Trina, meanwhile, had worked at her whittling all day long, + with but half an hour's interval for lunch, which she herself prepared + upon the oil stove. In the evening they were both so tired that they were + in no mood for conversation, and went to bed early, worn out, harried, + nervous, and cross. + </p> + <p> + Trina was not quite so scrupulously tidy now as in the old days. At one + time while whittling the Noah's ark animals she had worn gloves. She never + wore them now. She still took pride in neatly combing and coiling her + wonderful black hair, but as the days passed she found it more and more + comfortable to work in her blue flannel wrapper. Whittlings and chips + accumulated under the window where she did her work, and she was at no + great pains to clear the air of the room vitiated by the fumes of the oil + stove and heavy with the smell of cooking. It was not gay, that life. The + room itself was not gay. The huge double bed sprawled over nearly a fourth + of the available space; the angles of Trina's trunk and the washstand + projected into the room from the walls, and barked shins and scraped + elbows. Streaks and spots of the “non-poisonous” paint that Trina used + were upon the walls and wood-work. However, in one corner of the room, + next the window, monstrous, distorted, brilliant, shining with a light of + its own, stood the dentist's sign, the enormous golden tooth, the tooth of + a Brobdingnag. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon in September, about four months after the McTeagues had left + their suite, Trina was at her work by the window. She had whittled some + half-dozen sets of animals, and was now busy painting them and making the + arks. Little pots of “non-poisonous” paint stood at her elbow on the + table, together with a box of labels that read, “Made in France.” Her huge + clasp-knife was stuck into the under side of the table. She was now + occupied solely with the brushes and the glue pot. She turned the little + figures in her fingers with a wonderful lightness and deftness, painting + the chickens Naples yellow, the elephants blue gray, the horses Vandyke + brown, adding a dot of Chinese white for the eyes and sticking in the ears + and tail with a drop of glue. The animals once done, she put together and + painted the arks, some dozen of them, all windows and no doors, each one + opening only by a lid which was half the roof. She had all the work she + could handle these days, for, from this time till a week before Christmas, + Uncle Oelbermann could take as many “Noah's ark sets” as she could make. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Trina paused in her work, looking expectantly toward the door. + McTeague came in. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mac,” exclaimed Trina. “It's only three o'clock. What are you home + so early for? Have they discharged you?” + </p> + <p> + “They've fired me,” said McTeague, sitting down on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Fired you! What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know. Said the times were getting hard an' they had to let me go.” + </p> + <p> + Trina let her paint-stained hands fall into her lap. + </p> + <p> + “OH!” she cried. “If we don't have the HARDEST luck of any two people I + ever heard of. What can you do now? Is there another place like that where + they make surgical instruments?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? No, I don' know. There's three more.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must try them right away. Go down there right now.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Right now? No, I'm tired. I'll go down in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Mac,” cried Trina, in alarm, “what are you thinking of? You talk as + though we were millionaires. You must go down this minute. You're losing + money every second you sit there.” She goaded the huge fellow to his feet + again, thrust his hat into his hands, and pushed him out of the door, he + obeying the while, docile and obedient as a big cart horse. He was on the + stairs when she came running after him. + </p> + <p> + “Mac, they paid you off, didn't they, when they discharged you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must have some money. Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist heaved a shoulder uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don' want to.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got to have that money. There's no more oil for the stove, and I + must buy some more meal tickets to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Always after me about money,” muttered the dentist; but he emptied his + pockets for her, nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “I—you've taken it all,” he grumbled. “Better leave me something for + car fare. It's going to rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! You can walk just as well as not. A big fellow like you 'fraid of + a little walk; and it ain't going to rain.” + </p> + <p> + Trina had lied again both as to the want of oil for the stove and the + commutation ticket for the restaurant. But she knew by instinct that + McTeague had money about him, and she did not intend to let it go out of + the house. She listened intently until she was sure McTeague was gone. + Then she hurriedly opened her trunk and hid the money in the chamois bag + at the bottom. + </p> + <p> + The dentist presented himself at every one of the makers of surgical + instruments that afternoon and was promptly turned away in each case. Then + it came on to rain, a fine, cold drizzle, that chilled him and wet him to + the bone. He had no umbrella, and Trina had not left him even five cents + for car fare. He started to walk home through the rain. It was a long way + to Polk Street, as the last manufactory he had visited was beyond even + Folsom Street, and not far from the city front. + </p> + <p> + By the time McTeague reached Polk Street his teeth were chattering with + the cold. He was wet from head to foot. As he was passing Heise's harness + shop a sudden deluge of rain overtook him and he was obliged to dodge into + the vestibule for shelter. He, who loved to be warm, to sleep and to be + well fed, was icy cold, was exhausted and footsore from tramping the city. + He could look forward to nothing better than a badly-cooked supper at the + coffee-joint—hot meat on a cold plate, half done suet pudding, muddy + coffee, and bad bread, and he was cold, miserably cold, and wet to the + bone. All at once a sudden rage against Trina took possession of him. It + was her fault. She knew it was going to rain, and she had not let him have + a nickel for car fare—she who had five thousand dollars. She let him + walk the streets in the cold and in the rain. “Miser,” he growled behind + his mustache. “Miser, nasty little old miser. You're worse than old + Zerkow, always nagging about money, money, and you got five thousand + dollars. You got more, an' you live in that stinking hole of a room, and + you won't drink any decent beer. I ain't going to stand it much longer. + She knew it was going to rain. She KNEW it. Didn't I TELL her? And she + drives me out of my own home in the rain, for me to get money for her; + more money, and she takes it. She took that money from me that I earned. + 'Twasn't hers; it was mine, I earned it—and not a nickel for car + fare. She don't care if I get wet and get a cold and DIE. No, she don't, + as long as she's warm and's got her money.” He became more and more + indignant at the picture he made of himself. “I ain't going to stand it + much longer,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Why, hello, Doc. Is that you?” exclaimed Heise, opening the door of the + harness shop behind him. “Come in out of the wet. Why, you're soaked + through,” he added as he and McTeague came back into the shop, that reeked + of oiled leather. “Didn't you have any umbrella? Ought to have taken a + car.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so—I guess so,” murmured the dentist, confused. His teeth + were chattering. + </p> + <p> + “YOU'RE going to catch your death-a-cold,” exclaimed Heise. “Tell you + what,” he said, reaching for his hat, “come in next door to Frenna's and + have something to warm you up. I'll get the old lady to mind the shop.” He + called Mrs. Heise down from the floor above and took McTeague into Joe + Frenna's saloon, which was two doors above his harness shop. + </p> + <p> + “Whiskey and gum twice, Joe,” said he to the barkeeper as he and the + dentist approached the bar. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What?” said McTeague. “Whiskey? No, I can't drink whiskey. It kind + of disagrees with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the hell!” returned Heise, easily. “Take it as medicine. You'll get + your death-a-cold if you stand round soaked like that. Two whiskey and + gum, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague emptied the pony glass at a single enormous gulp. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way,” said Heise, approvingly. “Do you good.” He drank his off + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I'd—I'd ask you to have a drink with me, Heise,” said the dentist, + who had an indistinct idea of the amenities of the barroom, “only,” he + added shamefacedly, “only—you see, I don't believe I got any + change.” His anger against Trina, heated by the whiskey he had drank, + flamed up afresh. What a humiliating position for Trina to place him in, + not to leave him the price of a drink with a friend, she who had five + thousand dollars! + </p> + <p> + “Sha! That's all right, Doc,” returned Heise, nibbling on a grain of + coffee. “Want another? Hey? This my treat. Two more of the same, Joe.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague hesitated. It was lamentably true that whiskey did not agree with + him; he knew it well enough. However, by this time he felt very + comfortably warm at the pit of his stomach. The blood was beginning to + circulate in his chilled finger-tips and in his soggy, wet feet. He had + had a hard day of it; in fact, the last week, the last month, the last + three or four months, had been hard. He deserved a little consolation. Nor + could Trina object to this. It wasn't costing a cent. He drank again with + Heise. + </p> + <p> + “Get up here to the stove and warm yourself,” urged Heise, drawing up a + couple of chairs and cocking his feet upon the guard. The two fell to + talking while McTeague's draggled coat and trousers smoked. + </p> + <p> + “What a dirty turn that was that Marcus Schouler did you!” said Heise, + wagging his head. “You ought to have fought that, Doc, sure. You'd been + practising too long.” They discussed this question some ten or fifteen + minutes and then Heise rose. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this ain't earning any money. I got to get back to the shop.” + McTeague got up as well, and the pair started for the door. Just as they + were going out Ryer met them. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, hello,” he cried. “Lord, what a wet day! You two are going the + wrong way. You're going to have a drink with me. Three whiskey punches, + Joe.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” answered McTeague, shaking his head. “I'm going back home. I've + had two glasses of whiskey already.” + </p> + <p> + “Sha!” cried Heise, catching his arm. “A strapping big chap like you ain't + afraid of a little whiskey.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I—I got to go right afterwards,” protested McTeague. + </p> + <p> + About half an hour after the dentist had left to go down town, Maria + Macapa had come in to see Trina. Occasionally Maria dropped in on Trina in + this fashion and spent an hour or so chatting with her while she worked. + At first Trina had been inclined to resent these intrusions of the Mexican + woman, but of late she had begun to tolerate them. Her day was long and + cheerless at the best, and there was no one to talk to. Trina even fancied + that old Miss Baker had come to be less cordial since their misfortune. + Maria retailed to her all the gossip of the flat and the neighborhood, + and, which was much more interesting, told her of her troubles with + Zerkow. + </p> + <p> + Trina said to herself that Maria was common and vulgar, but one had to + have some diversion, and Trina could talk and listen without interrupting + her work. On this particular occasion Maria was much excited over Zerkow's + demeanor of late. + </p> + <p> + “He's gettun worse an' worse,” she informed Trina as she sat on the edge + of the bed, her chin in her hand. “He says he knows I got the dishes and + am hidun them from him. The other day I thought he'd gone off with his + wagon, and I was doin' a bit of ir'ning, an' by an' by all of a sudden I + saw him peeping at me through the crack of the door. I never let on that I + saw him, and, honest, he stayed there over two hours, watchun everything I + did. I could just feel his eyes on the back of my neck all the time. Last + Sunday he took down part of the wall, 'cause he said he'd seen me making + figures on it. Well, I was, but it was just the wash list. All the time he + says he'll kill me if I don't tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you stay with him for?” exclaimed Trina. “I'd be deathly + 'fraid of a man like that; and he did take a knife to you once.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoh! HE won't kill me, never fear. If he'd kill me he'd never know where + the dishes were; that's what HE thinks.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't understand, Maria; you told him about those gold dishes + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never! I never saw such a lot of crazy folks as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “But you say he hits you sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Maria, tossing her head scornfully, “I ain't afraid of him. He + takes his horsewhip to me now and then, but I can always manage. I say, + 'If you touch me with that, then I'll NEVER tell you.' Just pretending, + you know, and he drops it as though it was red hot. Say, Mrs. McTeague, + have you got any tea? Let's make a cup of tea over the stove.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Trina, with niggardly apprehension; “no, I haven't got a + bit of tea.” Trina's stinginess had increased to such an extent that it + had gone beyond the mere hoarding of money. She grudged even the food that + she and McTeague ate, and even brought away half loaves of bread, lumps of + sugar, and fruit from the car conductors' coffee-joint. She hid these + pilferings away on the shelf by the window, and often managed to make a + very creditable lunch from them, enjoying the meal with the greater relish + because it cost her nothing. + </p> + <p> + “No, Maria, I haven't got a bit of tea,” she said, shaking her head + decisively. “Hark, ain't that Mac?” she added, her chin in the air. + “That's his step, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm going to skip,” said Maria. She left hurriedly, passing the + dentist in the hall just outside the door. “Well?” said Trina + interrogatively as her husband entered. McTeague did not answer. He hung + his hat on the hook behind the door and dropped heavily into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked Trina, anxiously, “how did you make out, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + Still the dentist pretended not to hear, scowling fiercely at his muddy + boots. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mac, I want to know. Did you get a place? Did you get caught in + the rain?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I? Did I?” cried the dentist, sharply, an alacrity in his manner and + voice that Trina had never observed before. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me. Look at me,” he went on, speaking with an unwonted rapidity, + his wits sharp, his ideas succeeding each other quickly. “Look at me, + drenched through, shivering cold. I've walked the city over. Caught in the + rain! Yes, I guess I did get caught in the rain, and it ain't your fault I + didn't catch my death-a-cold; wouldn't even let me have a nickel for car + fare.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mac,” protested Trina, “I didn't know it was going to rain.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist put back his head and laughed scornfully. His face was very + red, and his small eyes twinkled. “Hoh! no, you didn't know it was going + to rain. Didn't I TELL you it was?” he exclaimed, suddenly angry again. + “Oh, you're a DAISY, you are. Think I'm going to put up with your + foolishness ALL the time? Who's the boss, you or I?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mac, I never saw you this way before. You talk like a different + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I AM a different man,” retorted the dentist, savagely. “You can't + make small of me ALWAYS.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind that. You know I'm not trying to make small of you. But + never mind that. Did you get a place?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me my money,” exclaimed McTeague, jumping up briskly. There was an + activity, a positive nimbleness about the huge blond giant that had never + been his before; also his stupidity, the sluggishness of his brain, seemed + to be unusually stimulated. + </p> + <p> + “Give me my money, the money I gave you as I was going away.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” exclaimed Trina. “I paid the grocer's bill with it while you + were gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, truly, Mac. Do you think I'd lie to you? Do you think I'd lower + myself to do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the next time I earn any money I'll keep it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, Mac, DID you get a place?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague turned his back on her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mac, please, did you?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist jumped up and thrust his face close to hers, his heavy jaw + protruding, his little eyes twinkling meanly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he shouted. “No, no, NO. Do you hear? NO.” + </p> + <p> + Trina cowered before him. Then suddenly she began to sob aloud, weeping + partly at his strange brutality, partly at the disappointment of his + failure to find employment. + </p> + <p> + McTeague cast a contemptuous glance about him, a glance that embraced the + dingy, cheerless room, the rain streaming down the panes of the one + window, and the figure of his weeping wife. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ain't this all FINE?” he exclaimed. “Ain't it lovely?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not my fault,” sobbed Trina. + </p> + <p> + “It is too,” vociferated McTeague. “It is too. We could live like + Christians and decent people if you wanted to. You got more'n five + thousand dollars, and you're so damned stingy that you'd rather live in a + rat hole—and make me live there too—before you'd part with a + nickel of it. I tell you I'm sick and tired of the whole business.” + </p> + <p> + An allusion to her lottery money never failed to rouse Trina. + </p> + <p> + “And I'll tell you this much too,” she cried, winking back the tears. “Now + that you're out of a job, we can't afford even to live in your rat hole, + as you call it. We've got to find a cheaper place than THIS even.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the dentist, purple with rage. “What, get into a worse + hole in the wall than this? Well, we'll SEE if we will. We'll just see + about that. You're going to do just as I tell you after this, Trina + McTeague,” and once more he thrust his face close to hers. + </p> + <p> + “I know what's the matter,” cried Trina, with a half sob; “I know, I can + smell it on your breath. You've been drinking whiskey.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've been drinking whiskey,” retorted her husband. “I've been + drinking whiskey. Have you got anything to say about it? Ah, yes, you're + RIGHT, I've been drinking whiskey. What have YOU got to say about my + drinking whiskey? Let's hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh! Oh!” sobbed Trina, covering her face with her hands. McTeague + caught her wrists in one palm and pulled them down. Trina's pale face was + streaming with tears; her long, narrow blue eyes were swimming; her + adorable little chin upraised and quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Let's hear what you got to say,” exclaimed McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing,” said Trina, between her sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Then stop that noise. Stop it, do you hear me? Stop it.” He threw up his + open hand threateningly. “STOP!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Trina looked at him fearfully, half blinded with weeping. Her husband's + thick mane of yellow hair was disordered and rumpled upon his great + square-cut head; his big red ears were redder than ever; his face was + purple; the thick eyebrows were knotted over the small, twinkling eyes; + the heavy yellow mustache, that smelt of alcohol, drooped over the + massive, protruding chin, salient, like that of the carnivora; the veins + were swollen and throbbing on his thick red neck; while over her head + Trina saw his upraised palm, callused, enormous. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” he exclaimed. And Trina, watching fearfully, saw the palm suddenly + contract into a fist, a fist that was hard as a wooden mallet, the fist of + the old-time car-boy. And then her ancient terror of him, the intuitive + fear of the male, leaped to life again. She was afraid of him. Every nerve + of her quailed and shrank from him. She choked back her sobs, catching her + breath. + </p> + <p> + “There,” growled the dentist, releasing her, “that's more like. Now,” he + went on, fixing her with his little eyes, “now listen to me. I'm beat out. + I've walked the city over—ten miles, I guess—an' I'm going to + bed, an' I don't want to be bothered. You understand? I want to be let + alone.” Trina was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Do you HEAR?” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist took off his coat, his collar and necktie, unbuttoned his + vest, and slipped his heavy-soled boots from his big feet. Then he + stretched himself upon the bed and rolled over towards the wall. In a few + minutes the sound of his snoring filled the room. + </p> + <p> + Trina craned her neck and looked at her husband over the footboard of the + bed. She saw his red, congested face; the huge mouth wide open; his + unclean shirt, with its frayed wristbands; and his huge feet encased in + thick woollen socks. Then her grief and the sense of her unhappiness + returned more poignant than ever. She stretched her arms out in front of + her on her work-table, and, burying her face in them, cried and sobbed as + though her heart would break. + </p> + <p> + The rain continued. The panes of the single window ran with sheets of + water; the eaves dripped incessantly. It grew darker. The tiny, grimy + room, full of the smells of cooking and of “non-poisonous” paint, took on + an aspect of desolation and cheerlessness lamentable beyond words. The + canary in its little gilt prison chittered feebly from time to time. + Sprawled at full length upon the bed, the dentist snored and snored, + stupefied, inert, his legs wide apart, his hands lying palm upward at his + sides. + </p> + <p> + At last Trina raised her head, with a long, trembling breath. She rose, + and going over to the washstand, poured some water from the pitcher into + the basin, and washed her face and swollen eyelids, and rearranged her + hair. Suddenly, as she was about to return to her work, she was struck + with an idea. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” she said to herself, “I wonder where he got the money to buy + his whiskey.” She searched the pockets of his coat, which he had flung + into a corner of the room, and even came up to him as he lay upon the bed + and went through the pockets of his vest and trousers. She found nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” she murmured, “I wonder if he's got any money he don't tell me + about. I'll have to look out for that.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 16 + </h2> + <p> + A week passed, then a fortnight, then a month. It was a month of the + greatest anxiety and unquietude for Trina. McTeague was out of a job, + could find nothing to do; and Trina, who saw the impossibility of saving + as much money as usual out of her earnings under the present conditions, + was on the lookout for cheaper quarters. In spite of his outcries and + sulky resistance Trina had induced her husband to consent to such a move, + bewildering him with a torrent of phrases and marvellous columns of + figures by which she proved conclusively that they were in a condition but + one remove from downright destitution. + </p> + <p> + The dentist continued idle. Since his ill success with the manufacturers + of surgical instruments he had made but two attempts to secure a job. + Trina had gone to see Uncle Oelbermann and had obtained for McTeague a + position in the shipping department of the wholesale toy store. However, + it was a position that involved a certain amount of ciphering, and + McTeague had been obliged to throw it up in two days. + </p> + <p> + Then for a time they had entertained a wild idea that a place on the + police force could be secured for McTeague. He could pass the physical + examination with flying colors, and Ryer, who had become the secretary of + the Polk Street Improvement Club, promised the requisite political “pull.” + If McTeague had shown a certain energy in the matter the attempt might + have been successful; but he was too stupid, or of late had become too + listless to exert himself greatly, and the affair resulted only in a + violent quarrel with Ryer. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had lost his ambition. He did not care to better his situation. + All he wanted was a warm place to sleep and three good meals a day. At the + first—at the very first—he had chafed at his idleness and had + spent the days with his wife in their one narrow room, walking back and + forth with the restlessness of a caged brute, or sitting motionless for + hours, watching Trina at her work, feeling a dull glow of shame at the + idea that she was supporting him. This feeling had worn off quickly, + however. Trina's work was only hard when she chose to make it so, and as a + rule she supported their misfortunes with a silent fortitude. + </p> + <p> + Then, wearied at his inaction and feeling the need of movement and + exercise, McTeague would light his pipe and take a turn upon the great + avenue one block above Polk Street. A gang of laborers were digging the + foundations for a large brownstone house, and McTeague found interest and + amusement in leaning over the barrier that surrounded the excavations and + watching the progress of the work. He came to see it every afternoon; by + and by he even got to know the foreman who superintended the job, and the + two had long talks together. Then McTeague would return to Polk Street and + find Heise in the back room of the harness shop, and occasionally the day + ended with some half dozen drinks of whiskey at Joe Frenna's saloon. + </p> + <p> + It was curious to note the effect of the alcohol upon the dentist. It did + not make him drunk, it made him vicious. So far from being stupefied, he + became, after the fourth glass, active, alert, quick-witted, even + talkative; a certain wickedness stirred in him then; he was intractable, + mean; and when he had drunk a little more heavily than usual, he found a + certain pleasure in annoying and exasperating Trina, even in abusing and + hurting her. + </p> + <p> + It had begun on the evening of Thanksgiving Day, when Heise had taken + McTeague out to dinner with him. The dentist on this occasion had drunk + very freely. He and Heise had returned to Polk Street towards ten o'clock, + and Heise at once suggested a couple of drinks at Frenna's. + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right,” said McTeague. “Drinks, that's the word. I'll go + home and get some money and meet you at Joe's.” + </p> + <p> + Trina was awakened by her husband pinching her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac,” she cried, jumping up in bed with a little scream, “how you + hurt! Oh, that hurt me dreadfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a little money,” answered the dentist, grinning, and pinching her + again. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't a cent. There's not a—oh, MAC, will you stop? I won't + have you pinch me that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up,” answered her husband, calmly, nipping the flesh of her + shoulder between his thumb and finger. “Heise's waiting for me.” Trina + wrenched from him with a sharp intake of breath, frowning with pain, and + caressing her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Mac, you've no idea how that hurts. Mac, STOP!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me some money, then.” + </p> + <p> + In the end Trina had to comply. She gave him half a dollar from her dress + pocket, protesting that it was the only piece of money she had. + </p> + <p> + “One more, just for luck,” said McTeague, pinching her again; “and + another.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you—how CAN you hurt a woman so!” exclaimed Trina, + beginning to cry with the pain. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now, CRY,” retorted the dentist. “That's right, CRY. I never saw such + a little fool.” He went out, slamming the door in disgust. + </p> + <p> + But McTeague never became a drunkard in the generally received sense of + the term. He did not drink to excess more than two or three times in a + month, and never upon any occasion did he become maudlin or staggering. + Perhaps his nerves were naturally too dull to admit of any excitation; + perhaps he did not really care for the whiskey, and only drank because + Heise and the other men at Frenna's did. Trina could often reproach him + with drinking too much; she never could say that he was drunk. The alcohol + had its effect for all that. It roused the man, or rather the brute in the + man, and now not only roused it, but goaded it to evil. McTeague's nature + changed. It was not only the alcohol, it was idleness and a general + throwing off of the good influence his wife had had over him in the days + of their prosperity. McTeague disliked Trina. She was a perpetual + irritation to him. She annoyed him because she was so small, so prettily + made, so invariably correct and precise. Her avarice incessantly harassed + him. Her industry was a constant reproach to him. She seemed to flaunt her + work defiantly in his face. It was the red flag in the eyes of the bull. + One time when he had just come back from Frenna's and had been sitting in + the chair near her, silently watching her at her work, he exclaimed all of + a sudden: + </p> + <p> + “Stop working. Stop it, I tell you. Put 'em away. Put 'em all away, or + I'll pinch you.” + </p> + <p> + “But why—why?” Trina protested. + </p> + <p> + The dentist cuffed her ears. “I won't have you work.” He took her knife + and her paint-pots away, and made her sit idly in the window the rest of + the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + It was, however, only when his wits had been stirred with alcohol that the + dentist was brutal to his wife. At other times, say three weeks of every + month, she was merely an incumbrance to him. They often quarrelled about + Trina's money, her savings. The dentist was bent upon having at least a + part of them. What he would do with the money once he had it, he did not + precisely know. He would spend it in royal fashion, no doubt, feasting + continually, buying himself wonderful clothes. The miner's idea of money + quickly gained and lavishly squandered, persisted in his mind. As for + Trina, the more her husband stormed, the tighter she drew the strings of + the little chamois-skin bag that she hid at the bottom of her trunk + underneath her bridal dress. Her five thousand dollars invested in Uncle + Oelbermann's business was a glittering, splendid dream which came to her + almost every hour of the day as a solace and a compensation for all her + unhappiness. + </p> + <p> + At times, when she knew that McTeague was far from home, she would lock + her door, open her trunk, and pile all her little hoard on her table. By + now it was four hundred and seven dollars and fifty cents. Trina would + play with this money by the hour, piling it, and repiling it, or gathering + it all into one heap, and drawing back to the farthest corner of the room + to note the effect, her head on one side. She polished the gold pieces + with a mixture of soap and ashes until they shone, wiping them carefully + on her apron. Or, again, she would draw the heap lovingly toward her and + bury her face in it, delighted at the smell of it and the feel of the + smooth, cool metal on her cheeks. She even put the smaller gold pieces in + her mouth, and jingled them there. She loved her money with an intensity + that she could hardly express. She would plunge her small fingers into the + pile with little murmurs of affection, her long, narrow eyes half closed + and shining, her breath coming in long sighs. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the dear money, the dear money,” she would whisper. “I love you so! + All mine, every penny of it. No one shall ever, ever get you. How I've + worked for you! How I've slaved and saved for you! And I'm going to get + more; I'm going to get more, more, more; a little every day.” + </p> + <p> + She was still looking for cheaper quarters. Whenever she could spare a + moment from her work, she would put on her hat and range up and down the + entire neighborhood from Sutter to Sacramento Streets, going into all the + alleys and bystreets, her head in the air, looking for the “Rooms-to-let” + sign. But she was in despair. All the cheaper tenements were occupied. She + could find no room more reasonable than the one she and the dentist now + occupied. + </p> + <p> + As time went on, McTeague's idleness became habitual. He drank no more + whiskey than at first, but his dislike for Trina increased with every day + of their poverty, with every day of Trina's persistent stinginess. At + times—fortunately rare he was more than ever brutal to her. He would + box her ears or hit her a great blow with the back of a hair-brush, or + even with his closed fist. His old-time affection for his “little woman,” + unable to stand the test of privation, had lapsed by degrees, and what + little of it was left was changed, distorted, and made monstrous by the + alcohol. + </p> + <p> + The people about the house and the clerks at the provision stores often + remarked that Trina's fingertips were swollen and the nails purple as + though they had been shut in a door. Indeed, this was the explanation she + gave. The fact of the matter was that McTeague, when he had been drinking, + used to bite them, crunching and grinding them with his immense teeth, + always ingenious enough to remember which were the sorest. Sometimes he + extorted money from her by this means, but as often as not he did it for + his own satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + And in some strange, inexplicable way this brutality made Trina all the + more affectionate; aroused in her a morbid, unwholesome love of + submission, a strange, unnatural pleasure in yielding, in surrendering + herself to the will of an irresistible, virile power. + </p> + <p> + Trina's emotions had narrowed with the narrowing of her daily life. They + reduced themselves at last to but two, her passion for her money and her + perverted love for her husband when he was brutal. She was a strange woman + during these days. + </p> + <p> + Trina had come to be on very intimate terms with Maria Macapa, and in the + end the dentist's wife and the maid of all work became great friends. + Maria was constantly in and out of Trina's room, and, whenever she could, + Trina threw a shawl over her head and returned Maria's calls. Trina could + reach Zerkow's dirty house without going into the street. The back yard of + the flat had a gate that opened into a little inclosure where Zerkow kept + his decrepit horse and ramshackle wagon, and from thence Trina could enter + directly into Maria's kitchen. Trina made long visits to Maria during the + morning in her dressing-gown and curl papers, and the two talked at great + length over a cup of tea served on the edge of the sink or a corner of the + laundry table. The talk was all of their husbands and of what to do when + they came home in aggressive moods. + </p> + <p> + “You never ought to fight um,” advised Maria. “It only makes um worse. + Just hump your back, and it's soonest over.” + </p> + <p> + They told each other of their husbands' brutalities, taking a strange sort + of pride in recounting some particularly savage blow, each trying to make + out that her own husband was the most cruel. They critically compared each + other's bruises, each one glad when she could exhibit the worst. They + exaggerated, they invented details, and, as if proud of their beatings, as + if glorying in their husbands' mishandling, lied to each other, magnifying + their own maltreatment. They had long and excited arguments as to which + were the most effective means of punishment, the rope's ends and cart + whips such as Zerkow used, or the fists and backs of hair-brushes affected + by McTeague. Maria contended that the lash of the whip hurt the most; + Trina, that the butt did the most injury. + </p> + <p> + Maria showed Trina the holes in the walls and the loosened boards in the + flooring where Zerkow had been searching for the gold plate. Of late he + had been digging in the back yard and had ransacked the hay in his + horse-shed for the concealed leather chest he imagined he would find. But + he was becoming impatient, evidently. + </p> + <p> + “The way he goes on,” Maria told Trina, “is somethun dreadful. He's gettun + regularly sick with it—got a fever every night—don't sleep, + and when he does, talks to himself. Says 'More'n a hundred pieces, an' + every one of 'em gold. More'n a hundred pieces, an' every one of 'em + gold.' Then he'll whale me with his whip, and shout, 'You know where it + is. Tell me, tell me, you swine, or I'll do for you.' An' then he'll get + down on his knees and whimper, and beg me to tell um where I've hid it. + He's just gone plum crazy. Sometimes he has regular fits, he gets so mad, + and rolls on the floor and scratches himself.” + </p> + <p> + One morning in November, about ten o'clock, Trina pasted a “Made in + France” label on the bottom of a Noah's ark, and leaned back in her chair + with a long sigh of relief. She had just finished a large Christmas order + for Uncle Oelbermann, and there was nothing else she could do that + morning. The bed had not yet been made, nor had the breakfast things been + washed. Trina hesitated for a moment, then put her chin in the air + indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” she said, “let them go till this afternoon. I don't care WHEN the + room is put to rights, and I know Mac don't.” She determined that instead + of making the bed or washing the dishes she would go and call on Miss + Baker on the floor below. The little dressmaker might ask her to stay to + lunch, and that would be something saved, as the dentist had announced his + intention that morning of taking a long walk out to the Presidio to be + gone all day. + </p> + <p> + But Trina rapped on Miss Baker's door in vain that morning. She was out. + Perhaps she was gone to the florist's to buy some geranium seeds. However, + Old Grannis's door stood a little ajar, and on hearing Trina at Miss + Baker's room, the old Englishman came out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone out,” he said, uncertainly, and in a half whisper, “went out + about half an hour ago. I—I think she went to the drug store to get + some wafers for the goldfish.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you go to your dog hospital any more, Mister Grannis?” said Trina, + leaning against the balustrade in the hall, willing to talk a moment. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis stood in the doorway of his room, in his carpet slippers and + faded corduroy jacket that he wore when at home. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why,” he said, hesitating, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You + see I'm thinking of giving up the little hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Giving it up?” + </p> + <p> + “You see, the people at the book store where I buy my pamphlets have found + out—I told them of my contrivance for binding books, and one of the + members of the firm came up to look at it. He offered me quite a sum if I + would sell him the right of it—the—patent of it—quite a + sum. In fact—in fact—yes, quite a sum, quite.” He rubbed his + chin tremulously and looked about him on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Why, isn't that fine?” said Trina, good-naturedly. “I'm very glad, Mister + Grannis. Is it a good price?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a sum—quite. In fact, I never dreamed of having so much + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Mister Grannis,” said Trina, decisively, “I want to give + you a good piece of advice. Here are you and Miss Baker——” The + old Englishman started nervously—“You and Miss Baker, that have been + in love with each other for——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. McTeague, that subject—if you would please—Miss + Baker is such an estimable lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlesticks!” said Trina. “You're in love with each other, and the whole + flat knows it; and you two have been living here side by side year in and + year out, and you've never said a word to each other. It's all nonsense. + Now, I want you should go right in and speak to her just as soon as she + comes home, and say you've come into money and you want her to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible—impossible!” exclaimed the old Englishman, alarmed and + perturbed. “It's quite out of the question. I wouldn't presume.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you love her, or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mrs. McTeague, I—I—you must excuse me. It's a matter + so personal—so—I—Oh, yes, I love her. Oh, yes, indeed,” + he exclaimed, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, she loves you. She told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “She did. She said those very words.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Baker had said nothing of the kind—would have died sooner than + have made such a confession; but Trina had drawn her own conclusions, like + every other lodger of the flat, and thought the time was come for decided + action. + </p> + <p> + “Now you do just as I tell you, and when she comes home, go right in and + see her, and have it over with. Now, don't say another word. I'm going; + but you do just as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Trina turned about and went down-stairs. She had decided, since Miss Baker + was not at home, that she would run over and see Maria; possibly she could + have lunch there. At any rate, Maria would offer her a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis stood for a long time just as Trina had left him, his hands + trembling, the blood coming and going in his withered cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “She said, she—she—she told her—she said that—that——” + he could get no farther. + </p> + <p> + Then he faced about and entered his room, closing the door behind him. For + a long time he sat in his armchair, drawn close to the wall in front of + the table on which stood his piles of pamphlets and his little binding + apparatus. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Trina, as she crossed the yard back of Zerkow's house, “I + wonder what rent Zerkow and Maria pay for this place. I'll bet it's + cheaper than where Mac and I are.” + </p> + <p> + Trina found Maria sitting in front of the kitchen stove, her chin upon her + breast. Trina went up to her. She was dead. And as Trina touched her + shoulder, her head rolled sideways and showed a fearful gash in her throat + under her ear. All the front of her dress was soaked through and through. + </p> + <p> + Trina backed sharply away from the body, drawing her hands up to her very + shoulders, her eyes staring and wide, an expression of unutterable horror + twisting her face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h!” she exclaimed in a long breath, her voice hardly rising above a + whisper. “Oh-h, isn't that horrible!” Suddenly she turned and fled through + the front part of the house to the street door, that opened upon the + little alley. She looked wildly about her. Directly across the way a + butcher's boy was getting into his two-wheeled cart drawn up in front of + the opposite house, while near by a peddler of wild game was coming down + the street, a brace of ducks in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, say—say,” gasped Trina, trying to get her voice, “say, come + over here quick.” + </p> + <p> + The butcher's boy paused, one foot on the wheel, and stared. Trina + beckoned frantically. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here, come over here quick.” + </p> + <p> + The young fellow swung himself into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with that woman?” he said, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + “There's a murder been done,” cried Trina, swaying in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + The young fellow drove away, his head over his shoulder, staring at Trina + with eyes that were fixed and absolutely devoid of expression. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with that woman?” he said again to himself as he turned + the corner. + </p> + <p> + Trina wondered why she didn't scream, how she could keep from it—how, + at such a moment as this, she could remember that it was improper to make + a disturbance and create a scene in the street. The peddler of wild game + was looking at her suspiciously. It would not do to tell him. He would go + away like the butcher's boy. + </p> + <p> + “Now, wait a minute,” Trina said to herself, speaking aloud. She put her + hands to her head. “Now, wait a minute. It won't do for me to lose my wits + now. What must I do?” She looked about her. There was the same familiar + aspect of Polk Street. She could see it at the end of the alley. The big + market opposite the flat, the delivery carts rattling up and down, the + great ladies from the avenue at their morning shopping, the cable cars + trundling past, loaded with passengers. She saw a little boy in a flat + leather cap whistling and calling for an unseen dog, slapping his small + knee from time to time. Two men came out of Frenna's saloon, laughing + heartily. Heise the harness-maker stood in the vestibule of his shop, a + bundle of whittlings in his apron of greasy ticking. And all this was + going on, people were laughing and living, buying and selling, walking + about out there on the sunny sidewalks, while behind her in there—in + there—in there—— + </p> + <p> + Heise started back from the sudden apparition of a white-lipped woman in a + blue dressing-gown that seemed to rise up before him from his very + doorstep. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. McTeague, you did scare me, for——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come over here quick.” Trina put her hand to her neck; swallowing + something that seemed to be choking her. “Maria's killed—Zerkow's + wife—I found her.” + </p> + <p> + “Get out!” exclaimed Heise, “you're joking.” + </p> + <p> + “Come over here—over into the house—I found her—she's + dead.” + </p> + <p> + Heise dashed across the street on the run, with Trina at his heels, a + trail of spilled whittlings marking his course. The two ran down the + alley. The wild-game peddler, a woman who had been washing down the steps + in a neighboring house, and a man in a broad-brimmed hat stood at Zerkow's + doorway, looking in from time to time, and talking together. They seemed + puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong in here?” asked the wild-game peddler as Heise and Trina + came up. Two more men stopped on the corner of the alley and Polk Street + and looked at the group. A woman with a towel round her head raised a + window opposite Zerkow's house and called to the woman who had been + washing the steps, “What is it, Mrs. Flint?” + </p> + <p> + Heise was already inside the house. He turned to Trina, panting from his + run. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you say—where was it—where?” + </p> + <p> + “In there,” said Trina, “farther in—the next room.” They burst into + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “LORD!” ejaculated Heise, stopping a yard or so from the body, and bending + down to peer into the gray face with its brown lips. + </p> + <p> + “By God! he's killed her.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Zerkow, by God! he's killed her. Cut her throat. He always said he + would.” + </p> + <p> + “Zerkow?” + </p> + <p> + “He's killed her. Her throat's cut. Good Lord, how she did bleed! By God! + he's done for her in good shape this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I told her—I TOLD her,” cried Trina. + </p> + <p> + “He's done for her SURE this time.” + </p> + <p> + “She said she could always manage—Oh-h! It's horrible.” + </p> + <p> + “He's done for her sure this trip. Cut her throat. LORD, how she has BLED! + Did you ever see so much—that's murder—that's cold-blooded + murder. He's killed her. Say, we must get a policeman. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + They turned back through the house. Half a dozen people—the + wild-game peddler, the man with the broad-brimmed hat, the washwoman, and + three other men—were in the front room of the junk shop, a bank of + excited faces surged at the door. Beyond this, outside, the crowd was + packed solid from one end of the alley to the other. Out in Polk Street + the cable cars were nearly blocked and were bunting a way slowly through + the throng with clanging bells. Every window had its group. And as Trina + and the harness-maker tried to force the way from the door of the junk + shop the throng suddenly parted right and left before the passage of two + blue-coated policemen who clove a passage through the press, working their + elbows energetically. They were accompanied by a third man in citizen's + clothes. + </p> + <p> + Heise and Trina went back into the kitchen with the two policemen, the + third man in citizen's clothes cleared the intruders from the front room + of the junk shop and kept the crowd back, his arm across the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Whew!” whistled one of the officers as they came out into the kitchen, + “cutting scrape? By George! SOMEBODY'S been using his knife all right.” He + turned to the other officer. “Better get the wagon. There's a box on the + second corner south. Now, then,” he continued, turning to Trina and the + harness-maker and taking out his note-book and pencil, “I want your names + and addresses.” + </p> + <p> + It was a day of tremendous excitement for the entire street. Long after + the patrol wagon had driven away, the crowd remained. In fact, until seven + o'clock that evening groups collected about the door of the junk shop, + where a policeman stood guard, asking all manner of questions, advancing + all manner of opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they'll get him?” asked Ryer of the policeman. A dozen necks + craned forward eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Hoh, we'll get him all right, easy enough,” answered the other, with a + grand air. + </p> + <p> + “What? What's that? What did he say?” asked the people on the outskirts of + the group. Those in front passed the answer back. + </p> + <p> + “He says they'll get him all right, easy enough.” + </p> + <p> + The group looked at the policeman admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “He's skipped to San Jose.” + </p> + <p> + Where the rumor started, and how, no one knew. But every one seemed + persuaded that Zerkow had gone to San Jose. + </p> + <p> + “But what did he kill her for? Was he drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he was crazy, I tell you—crazy in the head. Thought she was + hiding some money from him.” + </p> + <p> + Frenna did a big business all day long. The murder was the one subject of + conversation. Little parties were made up in his saloon—parties of + twos and threes—to go over and have a look at the outside of the + junk shop. Heise was the most important man the length and breadth of Polk + Street; almost invariably he accompanied these parties, telling again and + again of the part he had played in the affair. + </p> + <p> + “It was about eleven o'clock. I was standing in front of the shop, when + Mrs. McTeague—you know, the dentist's wife—came running across + the street,” and so on and so on. + </p> + <p> + The next day came a fresh sensation. Polk Street read of it in the morning + papers. Towards midnight on the day of the murder Zerkow's body had been + found floating in the bay near Black Point. No one knew whether he had + drowned himself or fallen from one of the wharves. Clutched in both his + hands was a sack full of old and rusty pans, tin dishes—fully a + hundred of them—tin cans, and iron knives and forks, collected from + some dump heap. + </p> + <p> + “And all this,” exclaimed Trina, “on account of a set of gold dishes that + never existed.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 17 + </h2> + <p> + One day, about a fortnight after the coroner's inquest had been held, and + when the excitement of the terrible affair was calming down and Polk + Street beginning to resume its monotonous routine, Old Grannis sat in his + clean, well-kept little room, in his cushioned armchair, his hands lying + idly upon his knees. It was evening; not quite time to light the lamps. + Old Grannis had drawn his chair close to the wall—so close, in fact, + that he could hear Miss Baker's grenadine brushing against the other side + of the thin partition, at his very elbow, while she rocked gently back and + forth, a cup of tea in her hands. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis's occupation was gone. That morning the bookselling firm where + he had bought his pamphlets had taken his little binding apparatus from + him to use as a model. The transaction had been concluded. Old Grannis had + received his check. It was large enough, to be sure, but when all was + over, he returned to his room and sat there sad and unoccupied, looking at + the pattern in the carpet and counting the heads of the tacks in the zinc + guard that was fastened to the wall behind his little stove. By and by he + heard Miss Baker moving about. It was five o'clock, the time when she was + accustomed to make her cup of tea and “keep company” with him on her side + of the partition. Old Grannis drew up his chair to the wall near where he + knew she was sitting. The minutes passed; side by side, and separated by + only a couple of inches of board, the two old people sat there together, + while the afternoon grew darker. + </p> + <p> + But for Old Grannis all was different that evening. There was nothing for + him to do. His hands lay idly in his lap. His table, with its pile of + pamphlets, was in a far corner of the room, and, from time to time, + stirred with an uncertain trouble, he turned his head and looked at it + sadly, reflecting that he would never use it again. The absence of his + accustomed work seemed to leave something out of his life. It did not + appear to him that he could be the same to Miss Baker now; their little + habits were disarranged, their customs broken up. He could no longer fancy + himself so near to her. They would drift apart now, and she would no + longer make herself a cup of tea and “keep company” with him when she knew + that he would never again sit before his table binding uncut pamphlets. He + had sold his happiness for money; he had bartered all his tardy romance + for some miserable banknotes. He had not foreseen that it would be like + this. A vast regret welled up within him. What was that on the back of his + hand? He wiped it dry with his ancient silk handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis leant his face in his hands. Not only did an inexplicable + regret stir within him, but a certain great tenderness came upon him. The + tears that swam in his faded blue eyes were not altogether those of + unhappiness. No, this long-delayed affection that had come upon him in his + later years filled him with a joy for which tears seemed to be the natural + expression. For thirty years his eyes had not been wet, but tonight he + felt as if he were young again. He had never loved before, and there was + still a part of him that was only twenty years of age. He could not tell + whether he was profoundly sad or deeply happy; but he was not ashamed of + the tears that brought the smart to his eyes and the ache to his throat. + He did not hear the timid rapping on his door, and it was not until the + door itself opened that he looked up quickly and saw the little retired + dressmaker standing on the threshold, carrying a cup of tea on a tiny + Japanese tray. She held it toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I was making some tea,” she said, “and I thought you would like to have a + cup.” + </p> + <p> + Never after could the little dressmaker understand how she had brought + herself to do this thing. One moment she had been sitting quietly on her + side of the partition, stirring her cup of tea with one of her Gorham + spoons. She was quiet, she was peaceful. The evening was closing down + tranquilly. Her room was the picture of calmness and order. The geraniums + blooming in the starch boxes in the window, the aged goldfish occasionally + turning his iridescent flank to catch a sudden glow of the setting sun. + The next moment she had been all trepidation. It seemed to her the most + natural thing in the world to make a steaming cup of tea and carry it in + to Old Grannis next door. It seemed to her that he was wanting her, that + she ought to go to him. With the brusque resolve and intrepidity that + sometimes seizes upon very timid people—the courage of the coward + greater than all others—she had presented herself at the old + Englishman's half-open door, and, when he had not heeded her knock, had + pushed it open, and at last, after all these years, stood upon the + threshold of his room. She had found courage enough to explain her + intrusion. + </p> + <p> + “I was making some tea, and I thought you would like to have a cup.” + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis dropped his hands upon either arm of his chair, and, leaning + forward a little, looked at her blankly. He did not speak. + </p> + <p> + The retired dressmaker's courage had carried her thus far; now it deserted + her as abruptly as it had come. Her cheeks became scarlet; her funny + little false curls trembled with her agitation. What she had done seemed + to her indecorous beyond expression. It was an enormity. Fancy, she had + gone into his room, INTO HIS ROOM—Mister Grannis's room. She had + done this—she who could not pass him on the stairs without a qualm. + What to do she did not know. She stood, a fixture, on the threshold of his + room, without even resolution enough to beat a retreat. Helplessly, and + with a little quaver in her voice, she repeated obstinately: + </p> + <p> + “I was making some tea, and I thought you would like to have a cup of + tea.” Her agitation betrayed itself in the repetition of the word. She + felt that she could not hold the tray out another instant. Already she was + trembling so that half the tea was spilled. + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis still kept silence, still bending forward, with wide eyes, his + hands gripping the arms of his chair. + </p> + <p> + Then with the tea-tray still held straight before her, the little + dressmaker exclaimed tearfully: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't mean—I didn't mean—I didn't know it would seem + like this. I only meant to be kind and bring you some tea; and now it + seems SO improper. I—I—I'm SO ashamed! I don't know what you + will think of me. I—” she caught her breath—“improper”—she + managed to exclaim, “unlady-like—you can never think well of me—I'll + go. I'll go.” She turned about. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” cried Old Grannis, finding his voice at last. Miss Baker paused, + looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes very wide open, blinking + through her tears, for all the world like a frightened child. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” exclaimed the old Englishman, rising to his feet. “I didn't know + it was you at first. I hadn't dreamed—I couldn't believe you would + be so good, so kind to me. Oh,” he cried, with a sudden sharp breath, “oh, + you ARE kind. I—I—you have—have made me very happy.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” exclaimed Miss Baker, ready to sob. “It was unlady-like. You + will—you must think ill of me.” She stood in the hall. The tears + were running down her cheeks, and she had no free hand to dry them. + </p> + <p> + “Let me—I'll take the tray from you,” cried Old Grannis, coming + forward. A tremulous joy came upon him. Never in his life had he been so + happy. At last it had come—come when he had least expected it. That + which he had longed for and hoped for through so many years, behold, it + was come to-night. He felt his awkwardness leaving him. He was almost + certain that the little dressmaker loved him, and the thought gave him + boldness. He came toward her and took the tray from her hands, and, + turning back into the room with it, made as if to set it upon his table. + But the piles of his pamphlets were in the way. Both of his hands were + occupied with the tray; he could not make a place for it on the table. He + stood for a moment uncertain, his embarrassment returning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't you—won't you please—” He turned his head, looking + appealingly at the little old dressmaker. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I'll help you,” she said. She came into the room, up to the table, + and moved the pamphlets to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, thanks,” murmured Old Grannis, setting down the tray. + </p> + <p> + “Now—now—now I will go back,” she exclaimed, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” returned the old Englishman. “Don't go, don't go. I've been + so lonely to-night—and last night too—all this year—all + my life,” he suddenly cried. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—I've forgotten the sugar.” + </p> + <p> + “But I never take sugar in my tea.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's rather cold, and I've spilled it—almost all of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll drink it from the saucer.” Old Grannis had drawn up his armchair for + her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shouldn't. This is—this is SO—You must think ill of + me.” Suddenly she sat down, and resting her elbows on the table, hid her + face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Think ILL of you?” cried Old Grannis, “think ILL of you? Why, you don't + know—you have no idea—all these years—living so close to + you, I—I—” he paused suddenly. It seemed to him as if the + beating of his heart was choking him. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were binding your books to-night,” said Miss Baker, + suddenly, “and you looked tired. I thought you looked tired when I last + saw you, and a cup of tea, you know, it—that—that does you so + much good when you're tired. But you weren't binding books.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” returned Old Grannis, drawing up a chair and sitting down. “No, + I—the fact is, I've sold my apparatus; a firm of booksellers has + bought the rights of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And aren't you going to bind books any more?” exclaimed the little + dressmaker, a shade of disappointment in her manner. “I thought you always + did about four o'clock. I used to hear you when I was making tea.” + </p> + <p> + It hardly seemed possible to Miss Baker that she was actually talking to + Old Grannis, that the two were really chatting together, face to face, and + without the dreadful embarrassment that used to overwhelm them both when + they met on the stairs. She had often dreamed of this, but had always put + it off to some far-distant day. It was to come gradually, little by + little, instead of, as now, abruptly and with no preparation. That she + should permit herself the indiscretion of actually intruding herself into + his room had never so much as occurred to her. Yet here she was, IN HIS + ROOM, and they were talking together, and little by little her + embarrassment was wearing away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I always heard you when you were making tea,” returned the old + Englishman; “I heard the tea things. Then I used to draw my chair and my + work-table close to the wall on my side, and sit there and work while you + drank your tea just on the other side; and I used to feel very near to you + then. I used to pass the whole evening that way.” + </p> + <p> + “And, yes—yes—I did too,” she answered. “I used to make tea + just at that time and sit there for a whole hour.” + </p> + <p> + “And didn't you sit close to the partition on your side? Sometimes I was + sure of it. I could even fancy that I could hear your dress brushing + against the wall-paper close beside me. Didn't you sit close to the + partition?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know where I sat.” + </p> + <p> + Old Grannis shyly put out his hand and took hers as it lay upon her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you sit close to the partition on your side?” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No—I don't know—perhaps—sometimes. Oh, yes,” she + exclaimed, with a little gasp, “Oh, yes, I often did.” + </p> + <p> + Then Old Grannis put his arm about her, and kissed her faded cheek, that + flushed to pink upon the instant. + </p> + <p> + After that they spoke but little. The day lapsed slowly into twilight, and + the two old people sat there in the gray evening, quietly, quietly, their + hands in each other's hands, “keeping company,” but now with nothing to + separate them. It had come at last. After all these years they were + together; they understood each other. They stood at length in a little + Elysium of their own creating. They walked hand in hand in a delicious + garden where it was always autumn. Far from the world and together they + entered upon the long retarded romance of their commonplace and uneventful + lives. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 18 + </h2> + <p> + That same night McTeague was awakened by a shrill scream, and woke to find + Trina's arms around his neck. She was trembling so that the bed-springs + creaked. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” cried the dentist, sitting up in bed, raising his clinched fists. + “Huh? What? What? What is it? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac,” gasped his wife, “I had such an awful dream. I dreamed about + Maria. I thought she was chasing me, and I couldn't run, and her throat + was—Oh, she was all covered with blood. Oh-h, I am so frightened!” + </p> + <p> + Trina had borne up very well for the first day or so after the affair, and + had given her testimony to the coroner with far greater calmness than + Heise. It was only a week later that the horror of the thing came upon her + again. She was so nervous that she hardly dared to be alone in the + daytime, and almost every night woke with a cry of terror, trembling with + the recollection of some dreadful nightmare. The dentist was irritated + beyond all expression by her nervousness, and especially was he + exasperated when her cries woke him suddenly in the middle of the night. + He would sit up in bed, rolling his eyes wildly, throwing out his huge + fists—at what, he did not know—exclaiming, “What what—” + bewildered and hopelessly confused. Then when he realized that it was only + Trina, his anger kindled abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you and your dreams! You go to sleep, or I'll give you a dressing + down.” Sometimes he would hit her a great thwack with his open palm, or + catch her hand and bite the tips of her fingers. Trina would lie awake for + hours afterward, crying softly to herself. Then, by and by, “Mac,” she + would say timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “Mac, do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What? Go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you love me any more, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to sleep. Don't bother me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you LOVE me, Mac?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mac, I've only you now, and if you don't love me, what is going to + become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, an' let me go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, just tell me that you love me.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist would turn abruptly away from her, burying his big blond head + in the pillow, and covering up his ears with the blankets. Then Trina + would sob herself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + The dentist had long since given up looking for a job. Between breakfast + and supper time Trina saw but little of him. Once the morning meal over, + McTeague bestirred himself, put on his cap—he had given up wearing + even a hat since his wife had made him sell his silk hat—and went + out. He had fallen into the habit of taking long and solitary walks beyond + the suburbs of the city. Sometimes it was to the Cliff House, occasionally + to the Park (where he would sit on the sun-warmed benches, smoking his + pipe and reading ragged ends of old newspapers), but more often it was to + the Presidio Reservation. McTeague would walk out to the end of the Union + Street car line, entering the Reservation at the terminus, then he would + work down to the shore of the bay, follow the shore line to the Old Fort + at the Golden Gate, and, turning the Point here, come out suddenly upon + the full sweep of the Pacific. Then he would follow the beach down to a + certain point of rocks that he knew. Here he would turn inland, climbing + the bluffs to a rolling grassy down sown with blue iris and a yellow + flower that he did not know the name of. On the far side of this down was + a broad, well-kept road. McTeague would keep to this road until he reached + the city again by the way of the Sacramento Street car line. The dentist + loved these walks. He liked to be alone. He liked the solitude of the + tremendous, tumbling ocean; the fresh, windy downs; he liked to feel the + gusty Trades flogging his face, and he would remain for hours watching the + roll and plunge of the breakers with the silent, unreasoned enjoyment of a + child. All at once he developed a passion for fishing. He would sit all + day nearly motionless upon a point of rocks, his fish-line between his + fingers, happy if he caught three perch in twelve hours. At noon he would + retire to a bit of level turf around an angle of the shore and cook his + fish, eating them without salt or knife or fork. He thrust a pointed stick + down the mouth of the perch, and turned it slowly over the blaze. When the + grease stopped dripping, he knew that it was done, and would devour it + slowly and with tremendous relish, picking the bones clean, eating even + the head. He remembered how often he used to do this sort of thing when he + was a boy in the mountains of Placer County, before he became a car-boy at + the mine. The dentist enjoyed himself hugely during these days. The + instincts of the old-time miner were returning. In the stress of his + misfortune McTeague was lapsing back to his early estate. + </p> + <p> + One evening as he reached home after such a tramp, he was surprised to + find Trina standing in front of what had been Zerkow's house, looking at + it thoughtfully, her finger on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “What you doing here'?” growled the dentist as he came up. There was a + “Rooms-to-let” sign on the street door of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Now we've found a place to move to,” exclaimed Trina. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried McTeague. “There, in that dirty house, where you found + Maria?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't afford that room in the flat any more, now that you can't get any + work to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But there's where Zerkow killed Maria—the very house—an' you + wake up an' squeal in the night just thinking of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I know it will be bad at first, but I'll get used to it, an' it's + just half again as cheap as where we are now. I was looking at a room; we + can have it dirt cheap. It's a back room over the kitchen. A German family + are going to take the front part of the house and sublet the rest. I'm + going to take it. It'll be money in my pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “But it won't be any in mine,” vociferated the dentist, angrily. “I'll + have to live in that dirty rat hole just so's you can save money. I ain't + any the better off for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Find work to do, and then we'll talk,” declared Trina. “I'M going to save + up some money against a rainy day; and if I can save more by living here + I'm going to do it, even if it is the house Maria was killed in. I don't + care.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said McTeague, and did not make any further protest. His wife + looked at him surprised. She could not understand this sudden + acquiescence. Perhaps McTeague was so much away from home of late that he + had ceased to care where or how he lived. But this sudden change troubled + her a little for all that. + </p> + <p> + The next day the McTeagues moved for a second time. It did not take them + long. They were obliged to buy the bed from the landlady, a circumstance + which nearly broke Trina's heart; and this bed, a couple of chairs, + Trina's trunk, an ornament or two, the oil stove, and some plates and + kitchen ware were all that they could call their own now; and this back + room in that wretched house with its grisly memories, the one window + looking out into a grimy maze of back yards and broken sheds, was what + they now knew as their home. + </p> + <p> + The McTeagues now began to sink rapidly lower and lower. They became + accustomed to their surroundings. Worst of all, Trina lost her pretty ways + and her good looks. The combined effects of hard work, avarice, poor food, + and her husband's brutalities told on her swiftly. Her charming little + figure grew coarse, stunted, and dumpy. She who had once been of a catlike + neatness, now slovened all day about the room in a dirty flannel wrapper, + her slippers clap-clapping after her as she walked. At last she even + neglected her hair, the wonderful swarthy tiara, the coiffure of a queen, + that shaded her little pale forehead. In the morning she braided it before + it was half combed, and piled and coiled it about her head in haphazard + fashion. It came down half a dozen times a day; by evening it was an + unkempt, tangled mass, a veritable rat's nest. + </p> + <p> + Ah, no, it was not very gay, that life of hers, when one had to rustle for + two, cook and work and wash, to say nothing of paying the rent. What odds + was it if she was slatternly, dirty, coarse? Was there time to make + herself look otherwise, and who was there to be pleased when she was all + prinked out? Surely not a great brute of a husband who bit you like a dog, + and kicked and pounded you as though you were made of iron. Ah, no, better + let things go, and take it as easy as you could. Hump your back, and it + was soonest over. + </p> + <p> + The one room grew abominably dirty, reeking with the odors of cooking and + of “non-poisonous” paint. The bed was not made until late in the + afternoon, sometimes not at all. Dirty, unwashed crockery, greasy knives, + sodden fragments of yesterday's meals cluttered the table, while in one + corner was the heap of evil-smelling, dirty linen. Cockroaches appeared in + the crevices of the woodwork, the wall-paper bulged from the damp walls + and began to peel. Trina had long ago ceased to dust or to wipe the + furniture with a bit of rag. The grime grew thick upon the window panes + and in the corners of the room. All the filth of the alley invaded their + quarters like a rising muddy tide. + </p> + <p> + Between the windows, however, the faded photograph of the couple in their + wedding finery looked down upon the wretchedness, Trina still holding her + set bouquet straight before her, McTeague standing at her side, his left + foot forward, in the attitude of a Secretary of State; while near by hung + the canary, the one thing the dentist clung to obstinately, piping and + chittering all day in its little gilt prison. + </p> + <p> + And the tooth, the gigantic golden molar of French gilt, enormous and + ungainly, sprawled its branching prongs in one corner of the room, by the + footboard of the bed. The McTeague's had come to use it as a sort of + substitute for a table. After breakfast and supper Trina piled the plates + and greasy dishes upon it to have them out of the way. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon the Other Dentist, McTeague's old-time rival, the wearer of + marvellous waistcoats, was surprised out of all countenance to receive a + visit from McTeague. The Other Dentist was in his operating room at the + time, at work upon a plaster-of-paris mould. To his call of “'Come right + in. Don't you see the sign, 'Enter without knocking'?” McTeague came in. + He noted at once how airy and cheerful was the room. A little fire coughed + and tittered on the hearth, a brindled greyhound sat on his haunches + watching it intently, a great mirror over the mantle offered to view an + array of actresses' pictures thrust between the glass and the frame, and a + big bunch of freshly-cut violets stood in a glass bowl on the polished + cherrywood table. The Other Dentist came forward briskly, exclaiming + cheerfully: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Doctor—Mister McTeague, how do? how do?” + </p> + <p> + The fellow was actually wearing a velvet smoking jacket. A cigarette was + between his lips; his patent leather boots reflected the firelight. + McTeague wore a black surah neglige shirt without a cravat; huge buckled + brogans, hob-nailed, gross, encased his feet; the hems of his trousers + were spotted with mud; his coat was frayed at the sleeves and a button was + gone. In three days he had not shaved; his shock of heavy blond hair + escaped from beneath the visor of his woollen cap and hung low over his + forehead. He stood with awkward, shifting feet and uncertain eyes before + the dapper young fellow who reeked of the barber shop, and whom he had + once ordered from his rooms. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you this morning, Mister McTeague? Something wrong with + the teeth, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” McTeague, floundering in the difficulties of his speech, forgot + the carefully rehearsed words with which he had intended to begin this + interview. + </p> + <p> + “I want to sell you my sign,” he said, stupidly. “That big tooth of French + gilt—YOU know—that you made an offer for once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't want that now,” said the other loftily. “I prefer a little + quiet signboard, nothing pretentious—just the name, and 'Dentist' + after it. These big signs are vulgar. No, I don't want it.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague remained, looking about on the floor, horribly embarrassed, not + knowing whether to go or to stay. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't know,” said the Other Dentist, reflectively. “If it will help + you out any—I guess you're pretty hard up—I'll—well, I + tell you what—I'll give you five dollars for it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right.” + </p> + <p> + On the following Thursday morning McTeague woke to hear the eaves dripping + and the prolonged rattle of the rain upon the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Raining,” he growled, in deep disgust, sitting up in bed, and winking at + the blurred window. + </p> + <p> + “It's been raining all night,” said Trina. She was already up and dressed, + and was cooking breakfast on the oil stove. + </p> + <p> + McTeague dressed himself, grumbling, “Well, I'll go, anyhow. The fish will + bite all the better for the rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mac,” said Trina, slicing a bit of bacon as thinly as she + could. “Look here, why don't you bring some of your fish home sometime?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted the dentist, “so's we could have 'em for breakfast. Might + save you a nickel, mightn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and if it did! Or you might fish for the market. The fisherman + across the street would buy 'em of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” exclaimed the dentist, and Trina obediently subsided. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” continued her husband, fumbling in his trousers pocket and + bringing out a dollar, “I'm sick and tired of coffee and bacon and mashed + potatoes. Go over to the market and get some kind of meat for breakfast. + Get a steak, or chops, or something. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mac, that's a whole dollar, and he only gave you five for your sign. + We can't afford it. Sure, Mac. Let me put that money away against a rainy + day. You're just as well off without meat for breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “You do as I tell you. Get some steak, or chops, or something.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Mac, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, now. I'll bite your fingers again pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “But——” + </p> + <p> + The dentist took a step towards her, snatching at her hand. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I'll go,” cried Trina, wincing and shrinking. “I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + She did not get the chops at the big market, however. Instead, she hurried + to a cheaper butcher shop on a side street two blocks away, and bought + fifteen cents' worth of chops from a side of mutton some two or three days + old. She was gone some little time. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the change,” exclaimed the dentist as soon as she returned. Trina + handed him a quarter; and when McTeague was about to protest, broke in + upon him with a rapid stream of talk that confused him upon the instant. + But for that matter, it was never difficult for Trina to deceive the + dentist. He never went to the bottom of things. He would have believed her + if she had told him the chops had cost a dollar. + </p> + <p> + “There's sixty cents saved, anyhow,” thought Trina, as she clutched the + money in her pocket to keep it from rattling. + </p> + <p> + Trina cooked the chops, and they breakfasted in silence. “Now,” said + McTeague as he rose, wiping the coffee from his thick mustache with the + hollow of his palm, “now I'm going fishing, rain or no rain. I'm going to + be gone all day.” + </p> + <p> + He stood for a moment at the door, his fish-line in his hand, swinging the + heavy sinker back and forth. He looked at Trina as she cleared away the + breakfast things. + </p> + <p> + “So long,” said he, nodding his huge square-cut head. This amiability in + the matter of leave taking was unusual. Trina put the dishes down and came + up to him, her little chin, once so adorable, in the air: + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me good-by, Mac,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “You + DO love me a little yet, don't you, Mac? We'll be happy again some day. + This is hard times now, but we'll pull out. You'll find something to do + pretty soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess so,” growled McTeague, allowing her to kiss him. + </p> + <p> + The canary was stirring nimbly in its cage, and just now broke out into a + shrill trilling, its little throat bulging and quivering. The dentist + stared at it. “Say,” he remarked slowly, “I think I'll take that bird of + mine along.” + </p> + <p> + “Sell it?” inquired Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, sell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ARE coming to your senses at last,” answered Trina, + approvingly. “But don't you let the bird-store man cheat you. That's a + good songster; and with the cage, you ought to make him give you five + dollars. You stick out for that at first, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague unhooked the cage and carefully wrapped it in an old newspaper, + remarking, “He might get cold. Well, so long,” he repeated, “so long.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mac.” + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, Trina took the sixty cents she had stolen from him out + of her pocket and recounted it. “It's sixty cents, all right,” she said + proudly. “But I DO believe that dime is too smooth.” She looked at it + critically. The clock on the power-house of the Sutter Street cable struck + eight. “Eight o'clock already,” she exclaimed. “I must get to work.” She + cleared the breakfast things from the table, and drawing up her chair and + her workbox began painting the sets of Noah's ark animals she had whittled + the day before. She worked steadily all the morning. At noon she lunched, + warming over the coffee left from breakfast, and frying a couple of + sausages. By one she was bending over her table again. Her fingers—some + of them lacerated by McTeague's teeth—flew, and the little pile of + cheap toys in the basket at her elbow grew steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Where DO all the toys go to?” she murmured. “The thousands and thousands + of these Noah's arks that I have made—horses and chickens and + elephants—and always there never seems to be enough. It's a good + thing for me that children break their things, and that they all have to + have birthdays and Christmases.” She dipped her brush into a pot of + Vandyke brown and painted one of the whittled toy horses in two strokes. + Then a touch of ivory black with a small flat brush created the tail and + mane, and dots of Chinese white made the eyes. The turpentine in the paint + dried it almost immediately, and she tossed the completed little horse + into the basket. + </p> + <p> + At six o'clock the dentist had not returned. Trina waited until seven, and + then put her work away, and ate her supper alone. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what's keeping Mac,” she exclaimed as the clock from the + power-house on Sutter Street struck half-past seven. “I KNOW he's drinking + somewhere,” she cried, apprehensively. “He had the money from his sign + with him.” + </p> + <p> + At eight o'clock she threw a shawl over her head and went over to the + harness shop. If anybody would know where McTeague was it would be Heise. + But the harness-maker had seen nothing of him since the day before. + </p> + <p> + “He was in here yesterday afternoon, and we had a drink or two at + Frenna's. Maybe he's been in there to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't you go in and see?” said Trina. “Mac always came home to his + supper—he never likes to miss his meals—and I'm getting + frightened about him.” + </p> + <p> + Heise went into the barroom next door, and returned with no definite news. + Frenna had not seen the dentist since he had come in with the + harness-maker the previous afternoon. Trina even humbled herself to ask of + the Ryers—with whom they had quarrelled—if they knew anything + of the dentist's whereabouts, but received a contemptuous negative. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he's come in while I've been out,” said Trina to herself. She went + down Polk Street again, going towards the flat. The rain had stopped, but + the sidewalks were still glistening. The cable cars trundled by, loaded + with theatregoers. The barbers were just closing their shops. The candy + store on the corner was brilliantly lighted and was filling up, while the + green and yellow lamps from the drug store directly opposite threw + kaleidoscopic reflections deep down into the shining surface of the + asphalt. A band of Salvationists began to play and pray in front of + Frenna's saloon. Trina hurried on down the gay street, with its evening's + brilliancy and small activities, her shawl over her head, one hand lifting + her faded skirt from off the wet pavements. She turned into the alley, + entered Zerkow's old home by the ever-open door, and ran up-stairs to the + room. Nobody. + </p> + <p> + “Why, isn't this FUNNY,” she exclaimed, half aloud, standing on the + threshold, her little milk-white forehead curdling to a frown, one sore + finger on her lips. Then a great fear seized upon her. Inevitably she + associated the house with a scene of violent death. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she said to the darkness, “Mac is all right. HE can take care of + himself.” But for all that she had a clear-cut vision of her husband's + body, bloated with seawater, his blond hair streaming like kelp, rolling + inertly in shifting waters. + </p> + <p> + “He couldn't have fallen off the rocks,” she declared firmly. “There—THERE + he is now.” She heaved a great sigh of relief as a heavy tread sounded in + the hallway below. She ran to the banisters, looking over, and calling, + “Oh, Mac! Is that you, Mac?” It was the German whose family occupied the + lower floor. The power-house clock struck nine. + </p> + <p> + “My God, where is Mac?” cried Trina, stamping her foot. + </p> + <p> + She put the shawl over her head again, and went out and stood on the + corner of the alley and Polk Street, watching and waiting, craning her + neck to see down the street. Once, even, she went out upon the sidewalk in + front of the flat and sat down for a moment upon the horse-block there. + She could not help remembering the day when she had been driven up to that + horse-block in a hack. Her mother and father and Owgooste and the twins + were with her. It was her wedding day. Her wedding dress was in a huge tin + trunk on the driver's seat. She had never been happier before in all her + life. She remembered how she got out of the hack and stood for a moment + upon the horse-block, looking up at McTeague's windows. She had caught a + glimpse of him at his shaving, the lather still on his cheek, and they had + waved their hands at each other. Instinctively Trina looked up at the flat + behind her; looked up at the bay window where her husband's “Dental + Parlors” had been. It was all dark; the windows had the blind, sightless + appearance imparted by vacant, untenanted rooms. A rusty iron rod + projected mournfully from one of the window ledges. + </p> + <p> + “There's where our sign hung once,” said Trina. She turned her head and + looked down Polk Street towards where the Other Dentist had his rooms, and + there, overhanging the street from his window, newly furbished and + brightened, hung the huge tooth, her birthday present to her husband, + flashing and glowing in the white glare of the electric lights like a + beacon of defiance and triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no; ah, no,” whispered Trina, choking back a sob. “Life isn't so gay. + But I wouldn't mind, no I wouldn't mind anything, if only Mac was home all + right.” She got up from the horse-block and stood again on the corner of + the alley, watching and listening. + </p> + <p> + It grew later. The hours passed. Trina kept at her post. The noise of + approaching footfalls grew less and less frequent. Little by little Polk + Street dropped back into solitude. Eleven o'clock struck from the + power-house clock; lights were extinguished; at one o'clock the cable + stopped, leaving an abrupt and numbing silence in the air. All at once it + seemed very still. The only noises were the occasional footfalls of a + policeman and the persistent calling of ducks and geese in the closed + market across the way. The street was asleep. + </p> + <p> + When it is night and dark, and one is awake and alone, one's thoughts take + the color of the surroundings; become gloomy, sombre, and very dismal. All + at once an idea came to Trina, a dark, terrible idea; worse, even, than + the idea of McTeague's death. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she cried. “Oh, no. It isn't true. But suppose—suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She left her post and hurried back to the house. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she was saying under her breath, “it isn't possible. Maybe he's + even come home already by another way. But suppose—suppose—suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She ran up the stairs, opened the door of the room, and paused, out of + breath. The room was dark and empty. With cold, trembling fingers she + lighted the lamp, and, turning about, looked at her trunk. The lock was + burst. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” cried Trina, “it's not true; it's not true.” She dropped on + her knees before the trunk, and tossed back the lid, and plunged her hands + down into the corner underneath her wedding dress, where she always kept + the savings. The brass match-safe and the chamois-skin bag were there. + They were empty. + </p> + <p> + Trina flung herself full length upon the floor, burying her face in her + arms, rolling her head from side to side. Her voice rose to a wail. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, it's not true; it's not true; it's not true. Oh, he couldn't + have done it. Oh, how could he have done it? All my money, all my little + savings—and deserted me. He's gone, my money's gone, my dear money—my + dear, dear gold pieces that I've worked so hard for. Oh, to have deserted + me—gone for good—gone and never coming back—gone with my + gold pieces. Gone-gone—gone. I'll never see them again, and I've + worked so hard, so so hard for him—for them. No, no, NO, it's not + true. It IS true. What will become of me now? Oh, if you'll only come back + you can have all the money—half of it. Oh, give me back my money. + Give me back my money, and I'll forgive you. You can leave me then if you + want to. Oh, my money. Mac, Mac, you've gone for good. You don't love me + any more, and now I'm a beggar. My money's gone, my husband's gone, gone, + gone, gone!” + </p> + <p> + Her grief was terrible. She dug her nails into her scalp, and clutching + the heavy coils of her thick black hair tore it again and again. She + struck her forehead with her clenched fists. Her little body shook from + head to foot with the violence of her sobbing. She ground her small teeth + together and beat her head upon the floor with all her strength. + </p> + <p> + Her hair was uncoiled and hanging a tangled, dishevelled mass far below + her waist; her dress was torn; a spot of blood was upon her forehead; her + eyes were swollen; her cheeks flamed vermilion from the fever that raged + in her veins. Old Miss Baker found her thus towards five o'clock the next + morning. + </p> + <p> + What had happened between one o'clock and dawn of that fearful night Trina + never remembered. She could only recall herself, as in a picture, kneeling + before her broken and rifled trunk, and then—weeks later, so it + seemed to her—she woke to find herself in her own bed with an iced + bandage about her forehead and the little old dressmaker at her side, + stroking her hot, dry palm. + </p> + <p> + The facts of the matter were that the German woman who lived below had + been awakened some hours after midnight by the sounds of Trina's weeping. + She had come upstairs and into the room to find Trina stretched face + downward upon the floor, half-conscious and sobbing, in the throes of an + hysteria for which there was no relief. The woman, terrified, had called + her husband, and between them they had got Trina upon the bed. Then the + German woman happened to remember that Trina had friends in the big flat + near by, and had sent her husband to fetch the retired dressmaker, while + she herself remained behind to undress Trina and put her to bed. Miss + Baker had come over at once, and began to cry herself at the sight of the + dentist's poor little wife. She did not stop to ask what the trouble was, + and indeed it would have been useless to attempt to get any coherent + explanation from Trina at that time. Miss Baker had sent the German + woman's husband to get some ice at one of the “all-night” restaurants of + the street; had kept cold, wet towels on Trina's head; had combed and + recombed her wonderful thick hair; and had sat down by the side of the + bed, holding her hot hand, with its poor maimed fingers, waiting patiently + until Trina should be able to speak. + </p> + <p> + Towards morning Trina awoke—or perhaps it was a mere regaining of + consciousness—looked a moment at Miss Baker, then about the room + until her eyes fell upon her trunk with its broken lock. Then she turned + over upon the pillow and began to sob again. She refused to answer any of + the little dressmaker's questions, shaking her head violently, her face + hidden in the pillow. + </p> + <p> + By breakfast time her fever had increased to such a point that Miss Baker + took matters into her own hands and had the German woman call a doctor. He + arrived some twenty minutes later. He was a big, kindly fellow who lived + over the drug store on the corner. He had a deep voice and a tremendous + striding gait less suggestive of a physician than of a sergeant of a + cavalry troop. + </p> + <p> + By the time of his arrival little Miss Baker had divined intuitively the + entire trouble. She heard the doctor's swinging tramp in the entry below, + and heard the German woman saying: + </p> + <p> + “Righd oop der stairs, at der back of der halle. Der room mit der door + oppen.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Baker met the doctor at the landing, she told him in a whisper of the + trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Her husband's deserted her, I'm afraid, doctor, and took all of her money—a + good deal of it. It's about killed the poor child. She was out of her head + a good deal of the night, and now she's got a raging fever.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor and Miss Baker returned to the room and entered, closing the + door. The big doctor stood for a moment looking down at Trina rolling her + head from side to side upon the pillow, her face scarlet, her enormous + mane of hair spread out on either side of her. The little dressmaker + remained at his elbow, looking from him to Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little woman!” said the doctor; “poor little woman!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Baker pointed to the trunk, whispering: + </p> + <p> + “See, there's where she kept her savings. See, he broke the lock.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. McTeague,” said the doctor, sitting down by the bed, and + taking Trina's wrist, “a little fever, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Trina opened her eyes and looked at him, and then at Miss Baker. She did + not seem in the least surprised at the unfamiliar faces. She appeared to + consider it all as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, with a long, tremulous breath, “I have a fever, and my + head—my head aches and aches.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor prescribed rest and mild opiates. Then his eye fell upon the + fingers of Trina's right hand. He looked at them sharply. A deep red glow, + unmistakable to a physician's eyes, was upon some of them, extending from + the finger tips up to the second knuckle. + </p> + <p> + “Hello,” he exclaimed, “what's the matter here?” In fact something was + very wrong indeed. For days Trina had noticed it. The fingers of her right + hand had swollen as never before, aching and discolored. Cruelly lacerated + by McTeague's brutality as they were, she had nevertheless gone on about + her work on the Noah's ark animals, constantly in contact with the + “non-poisonous” paint. She told as much to the doctor in answer to his + questions. He shook his head with an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this is blood-poisoning, you know,” he told her; “the worst kind. + You'll have to have those fingers amputated, beyond a doubt, or lose the + entire hand—or even worse.” + </p> + <p> + “And my work!” exclaimed Trina. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 19 + </h2> + <p> + One can hold a scrubbing-brush with two good fingers and the stumps of two + others even if both joints of the thumb are gone, but it takes + considerable practice to get used to it. + </p> + <p> + Trina became a scrub-woman. She had taken council of Selina, and through + her had obtained the position of caretaker in a little memorial + kindergarten over on Pacific Street. Like Polk Street, it was an + accommodation street, but running through a much poorer and more sordid + quarter. Trina had a little room over the kindergarten schoolroom. It was + not an unpleasant room. It looked out upon a sunny little court floored + with boards and used as the children's playground. Two great cherry trees + grew here, the leaves almost brushing against the window of Trina's room + and filtering the sunlight so that it fell in round golden spots upon the + floor of the room. “Like gold pieces,” Trina said to herself. + </p> + <p> + Trina's work consisted in taking care of the kindergarten rooms, scrubbing + the floors, washing the windows, dusting and airing, and carrying out the + ashes. Besides this she earned some five dollars a month by washing down + the front steps of some big flats on Washington Street, and by cleaning + out vacant houses after the tenants had left. She saw no one. Nobody knew + her. She went about her work from dawn to dark, and often entire days + passed when she did not hear the sound of her own voice. She was alone, a + solitary, abandoned woman, lost in the lowest eddies of the great city's + tide—the tide that always ebbs. + </p> + <p> + When Trina had been discharged from the hospital after the operation on + her fingers, she found herself alone in the world, alone with her five + thousand dollars. The interest of this would support her, and yet allow + her to save a little. + </p> + <p> + But for a time Trina had thought of giving up the fight altogether and of + joining her family in the southern part of the State. But even while she + hesitated about this she received a long letter from her mother, an answer + to one she herself had written just before the amputation of her + right-hand fingers—the last letter she would ever be able to write. + Mrs. Sieppe's letter was one long lamentation; she had her own misfortunes + to bewail as well as those of her daughter. The carpet-cleaning and + upholstery business had failed. Mr. Sieppe and Owgooste had left for New + Zealand with a colonization company, whither Mrs. Sieppe and the twins + were to follow them as soon as the colony established itself. So far from + helping Trina in her ill fortune, it was she, her mother, who might some + day in the near future be obliged to turn to Trina for aid. So Trina had + given up the idea of any help from her family. For that matter she needed + none. She still had her five thousand, and Uncle Oelbermann paid her the + interest with a machine-like regularity. Now that McTeague had left her, + there was one less mouth to feed; and with this saving, together with the + little she could earn as scrub-woman, Trina could almost manage to make + good the amount she lost by being obliged to cease work upon the Noah's + ark animals. + </p> + <p> + Little by little her sorrow over the loss of her precious savings overcame + the grief of McTeague's desertion of her. Her avarice had grown to be her + one dominant passion; her love of money for the money's sake brooded in + her heart, driving out by degrees every other natural affection. She grew + thin and meagre; her flesh clove tight to her small skeleton; her small + pale mouth and little uplifted chin grew to have a certain feline + eagerness of expression; her long, narrow eyes glistened continually, as + if they caught and held the glint of metal. One day as she sat in her + room, the empty brass match-box and the limp chamois bag in her hands, she + suddenly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “I could have forgiven him if he had only gone away and left me my money. + I could have—yes, I could have forgiven him even THIS”—she + looked at the stumps of her fingers. “But now,” her teeth closed tight and + her eyes flashed, + </p> + <p> + “now—I'll—never—forgive—him—as-long—as—I—live.” + </p> + <p> + The empty bag and the hollow, light match-box troubled her. Day after day + she took them from her trunk and wept over them as other women weep over a + dead baby's shoe. Her four hundred dollars were gone, were gone, were + gone. She would never see them again. She could plainly see her husband + spending her savings by handfuls; squandering her beautiful gold pieces + that she had been at such pains to polish with soap and ashes. The thought + filled her with an unspeakable anguish. She would wake at night from a + dream of McTeague revelling down her money, and ask of the darkness, “How + much did he spend to-day? How many of the gold pieces are left? Has he + broken either of the two twenty-dollar pieces yet? What did he spend it + for?” + </p> + <p> + The instant she was out of the hospital Trina had begun to save again, but + now it was with an eagerness that amounted at times to a veritable frenzy. + She even denied herself lights and fuel in order to put by a quarter or + so, grudging every penny she was obliged to spend. She did her own washing + and cooking. Finally she sold her wedding dress, that had hitherto lain in + the bottom of her trunk. + </p> + <p> + The day she moved from Zerkow's old house, she came suddenly upon the + dentist's concertina under a heap of old clothes in the closet. Within + twenty minutes she had sold it to the dealer in second-hand furniture, + returning to her room with seven dollars in her pocket, happy for the + first time since McTeague had left her. + </p> + <p> + But for all that the match-box and the bag refused to fill up; after three + weeks of the most rigid economy they contained but eighteen dollars and + some small change. What was that compared with four hundred? Trina told + herself that she must have her money in hand. She longed to see again the + heap of it upon her work-table, where she could plunge her hands into it, + her face into it, feeling the cool, smooth metal upon her cheeks. At such + moments she would see in her imagination her wonderful five thousand + dollars piled in columns, shining and gleaming somewhere at the bottom of + Uncle Oelbermann's vault. She would look at the paper that Uncle + Oelbermann had given her, and tell herself that it represented five + thousand dollars. But in the end this ceased to satisfy her, she must have + the money itself. She must have her four hundred dollars back again, there + in her trunk, in her bag and her match-box, where she could touch it and + see it whenever she desired. + </p> + <p> + At length she could stand it no longer, and one day presented herself + before Uncle Oelbermann as he sat in his office in the wholesale toy + store, and told him she wanted to have four hundred dollars of her money. + </p> + <p> + “But this is very irregular, you know, Mrs. McTeague,” said the great man. + “Not business-like at all.” + </p> + <p> + But his niece's misfortunes and the sight of her poor maimed hand appealed + to him. He opened his check-book. “You understand, of course,” he said, + “that this will reduce the amount of your interest by just so much.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know. I've thought of that,” said Trina. + </p> + <p> + “Four hundred, did you say?” remarked Uncle Oelbermann, taking the cap + from his fountain pen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, four hundred,” exclaimed Trina, quickly, her eyes glistening. + </p> + <p> + Trina cashed the check and returned home with the money—all in + twenty-dollar pieces as she had desired—in an ecstasy of delight. + For half of that night she sat up playing with her money, counting it and + recounting it, polishing the duller pieces until they shone. Altogether + there were twenty twenty-dollar gold pieces. + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h, you beauties!” murmured Trina, running her palms over them, fairly + quivering with pleasure. “You beauties! IS there anything prettier than a + twenty-dollar gold piece? You dear, dear money! Oh, don't I LOVE you! + Mine, mine, mine—all of you mine.” + </p> + <p> + She laid them out in a row on the ledge of the table, or arranged them in + patterns—triangles, circles, and squares—or built them all up + into a pyramid which she afterward overthrew for the sake of hearing the + delicious clink of the pieces tumbling against each other. Then at last + she put them away in the brass match-box and chamois bag, delighted beyond + words that they were once more full and heavy. + </p> + <p> + Then, a few days after, the thought of the money still remaining in Uncle + Oelbermann's keeping returned to her. It was hers, all hers—all that + four thousand six hundred. She could have as much of it or as little of it + as she chose. She only had to ask. For a week Trina resisted, knowing very + well that taking from her capital was proportionately reducing her monthly + income. Then at last she yielded. + </p> + <p> + “Just to make it an even five hundred, anyhow,” she told herself. That day + she drew a hundred dollars more, in twenty-dollar gold pieces as before. + From that time Trina began to draw steadily upon her capital, a little at + a time. It was a passion with her, a mania, a veritable mental disease; a + temptation such as drunkards only know. + </p> + <p> + It would come upon her all of a sudden. While she was about her work, + scrubbing the floor of some vacant house; or in her room, in the morning, + as she made her coffee on the oil stove, or when she woke in the night, a + brusque access of cupidity would seize upon her. Her cheeks flushed, her + eyes glistened, her breath came short. At times she would leave her work + just as it was, put on her old bonnet of black straw, throw her shawl + about her, and go straight to Uncle Oelbermann's store and draw against + her money. Now it would be a hundred dollars, now sixty; now she would + content herself with only twenty; and once, after a fortnight's + abstinence, she permitted herself a positive debauch of five hundred. + Little by little she drew her capital from Uncle Oelbermann, and little by + little her original interest of twenty-five dollars a month dwindled. + </p> + <p> + One day she presented herself again in the office of the whole-sale toy + store. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me have a check for two hundred dollars, Uncle Oelbermann?” + she said. + </p> + <p> + The great man laid down his fountain pen and leaned back in his swivel + chair with great deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand, Mrs. McTeague,” he said. “Every week you come here + and draw out a little of your money. I've told you that it is not at all + regular or business-like for me to let you have it this way. And more than + this, it's a great inconvenience to me to give you these checks at + unstated times. If you wish to draw out the whole amount let's have some + understanding. Draw it in monthly installments of, say, five hundred + dollars, or else,” he added, abruptly, “draw it all at once, now, to-day. + I would even prefer it that way. Otherwise it's—it's annoying. Come, + shall I draw you a check for thirty-seven hundred, and have it over and + done with?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Trina, with instinctive apprehension, refusing, she did + not know why. “No, I'll leave it with you. I won't draw out any more.” + </p> + <p> + She took her departure, but paused on the pavement outside the store, and + stood for a moment lost in thought, her eyes beginning to glisten and her + breath coming short. Slowly she turned about and reentered the store; she + came back into the office, and stood trembling at the corner of Uncle + Oelbermann's desk. He looked up sharply. Twice Trina tried to get her + voice, and when it did come to her, she could hardly recognize it. Between + breaths she said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all right—I'll—you can give me—will you give me a + check for thirty-seven hundred? Give me ALL of my money.” + </p> + <p> + A few hours later she entered her little room over the kindergarten, + bolted the door with shaking fingers, and emptied a heavy canvas sack upon + the middle of her bed. Then she opened her trunk, and taking thence the + brass match-box and chamois-skin bag added their contents to the pile. + Next she laid herself upon the bed and gathered the gleaming heaps of gold + pieces to her with both arms, burying her face in them with long sighs of + unspeakable delight. + </p> + <p> + It was a little past noon, and the day was fine and warm. The leaves of + the huge cherry trees threw off a certain pungent aroma that entered + through the open window, together with long thin shafts of golden + sunlight. Below, in the kindergarten, the children were singing gayly and + marching to the jangling of the piano. Trina heard nothing, saw nothing. + She lay on her bed, her eyes closed, her face buried in a pile of gold + that she encircled with both her arms. + </p> + <p> + Trina even told herself at last that she was happy once more. McTeague + became a memory—a memory that faded a little every day—dim and + indistinct in the golden splendor of five thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” Trina would say, “I did love Mac, loved him dearly, only a + little while ago. Even when he hurt me, it only made me love him more. How + is it I've changed so sudden? How COULD I forget him so soon? It must be + because he stole my money. That is it. I couldn't forgive anyone that—no, + not even my MOTHER. And I never—never—will forgive him.” + </p> + <p> + What had become of her husband Trina did not know. She never saw any of + the old Polk Street people. There was no way she could have news of him, + even if she had cared to have it. She had her money, that was the main + thing. Her passion for it excluded every other sentiment. There it was in + the bottom of her trunk, in the canvas sack, the chamois-skin bag, and the + little brass match-safe. Not a day passed that Trina did not have it out + where she could see and touch it. One evening she had even spread all the + gold pieces between the sheets, and had then gone to bed, stripping + herself, and had slept all night upon the money, taking a strange and + ecstatic pleasure in the touch of the smooth flat pieces the length of her + entire body. + </p> + <p> + One night, some three months after she had come to live at the + kindergarten, Trina was awakened by a sharp tap on the pane of the window. + She sat up quickly in bed, her heart beating thickly, her eyes rolling + wildly in the direction of her trunk. The tap was repeated. Trina rose and + went fearfully to the window. The little court below was bright with + moonlight, and standing just on the edge of the shadow thrown by one of + the cherry trees was McTeague. A bunch of half-ripe cherries was in his + hand. He was eating them and throwing the pits at the window. As he caught + sight of her, he made an eager sign for her to raise the sash. Reluctant + and wondering, Trina obeyed, and the dentist came quickly forward. He was + wearing a pair of blue overalls; a navy-blue flannel shirt without a + cravat; an old coat, faded, rain-washed, and ripped at the seams; and his + woollen cap. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Trina,” he exclaimed, his heavy bass voice pitched just above a + whisper, “let me in, will you, huh? Say, will you? I'm regularly starving, + and I haven't slept in a Christian bed for two weeks.” + </p> + <p> + At sight at him standing there in the moonlight, Trina could only think of + him as the man who had beaten and bitten her, had deserted her and stolen + her money, had made her suffer as she had never suffered before in all her + life. Now that he had spent the money that he had stolen from her, he was + whining to come back—so that he might steal more, no doubt. Once in + her room he could not help but smell out her five thousand dollars. Her + indignation rose. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she whispered back at him. “No, I will not let you in.” + </p> + <p> + “But listen here, Trina, I tell you I am starving, regularly——” + </p> + <p> + “Hoh!” interrupted Trina scornfully. “A man can't starve with four hundred + dollars, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well—I—well—” faltered the dentist. “Never + mind now. Give me something to eat, an' let me in an' sleep. I've been + sleeping in the Plaza for the last ten nights, and say, I—Damn it, + Trina, I ain't had anything to eat since—” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the four hundred dollars you robbed me of when you deserted me?” + returned Trina, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've spent it,” growled the dentist. “But you CAN'T see me starve, + Trina, no matter what's happened. Give me a little money, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see you starve before you get any more of MY money.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist stepped back a pace and stared up at her wonder-stricken. His + face was lean and pinched. Never had the jaw bone looked so enormous, nor + the square-cut head so huge. The moonlight made deep black shadows in the + shrunken cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Huh?” asked the dentist, puzzled. “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't give you any money—never again—not a cent.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you know that I'm hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've been hungry myself. Besides, I DON'T believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Trina, I ain't had a thing to eat since yesterday morning; that's God's + truth. Even if I did get off with your money, you CAN'T see me starve, can + you? You can't see me walk the streets all night because I ain't got a + place to sleep. Will you let me in? Say, will you? Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, will you give me some money then—just a little? Give me a + dollar. Give me half a dol—Say, give me a DIME, an' I can get a cup + of coffee.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist paused and looked at her with curious intentness, bewildered, + nonplussed. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you—you must be crazy, Trina. I—I—wouldn't let a + DOG go hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even if he'd bitten you, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist stared again. + </p> + <p> + There was another pause. McTeague looked up at her in silence, a mean and + vicious twinkle coming into his small eyes. He uttered a low exclamation, + and then checked himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look here, for the last time. I'm starving. I've got nowhere to + sleep. Will you give me some money, or something to eat? Will you let me + in?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no—no.” + </p> + <p> + Trina could fancy she almost saw the brassy glint in her husband's eyes. + He raised one enormous lean fist. Then he growled: + </p> + <p> + “If I had hold of you for a minute, by God, I'd make you dance. An' I will + yet, I will yet. Don't you be afraid of that.” + </p> + <p> + He turned about, the moonlight showing like a layer of snow upon his + massive shoulders. Trina watched him as he passed under the shadow of the + cherry trees and crossed the little court. She heard his great feet + grinding on the board flooring. He disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Miser though she was, Trina was only human, and the echo of the dentist's + heavy feet had not died away before she began to be sorry for what she had + done. She stood by the open window in her nightgown, her finger upon her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “He did looked pinched,” she said half aloud. “Maybe he WAS hungry. I + ought to have given him something. I wish I had, I WISH I had. Oh,” she + cried, suddenly, with a frightened gesture of both hands, “what have I + come to be that I would see Mac—my husband—that I would see + him starve rather than give him money? No, no. It's too dreadful. I WILL + give him some. I'll send it to him to-morrow. Where?—well, he'll + come back.” She leaned from the window and called as loudly as she dared, + “Mac, oh, Mac.” There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + When McTeague had told Trina he had been without food for nearly two days + he was speaking the truth. The week before he had spent the last of the + four hundred dollars in the bar of a sailor's lodging-house near the water + front, and since that time had lived a veritable hand-to-mouth existence. + </p> + <p> + He had spent her money here and there about the city in royal fashion, + absolutely reckless of the morrow, feasting and drinking for the most part + with companions he picked up heaven knows where, acquaintances of + twenty-four hours, whose names he forgot in two days. Then suddenly he + found himself at the end of his money. He no longer had any friends. + Hunger rode him and rowelled him. He was no longer well fed, comfortable. + There was no longer a warm place for him to sleep. He went back to Polk + Street in the evening, walking on the dark side of the street, lurking in + the shadows, ashamed to have any of his old-time friends see him. He + entered Zerkow's old house and knocked at the door of the room Trina and + he had occupied. It was empty. + </p> + <p> + Next day he went to Uncle Oelbermann's store and asked news of Trina. + Trina had not told Uncle Oelbermann of McTeague's brutalities, giving him + other reasons to explain the loss of her fingers; neither had she told him + of her husband's robbery. So when the dentist had asked where Trina could + be found, Uncle Oelbermann, believing that McTeague was seeking a + reconciliation, had told him without hesitation, and, he added: + </p> + <p> + “She was in here only yesterday and drew out the balance of her money. + She's been drawing against her money for the last month or so. She's got + it all now, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she's got it all.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist went away from his bootless visit to his wife shaking with + rage, hating her with all the strength of a crude and primitive nature. He + clenched his fists till his knuckles whitened, his teeth ground furiously + upon one another. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I had hold of you once, I'd make you dance. She had five thousand + dollars in that room, while I stood there, not twenty feet away, and told + her I was starving, and she wouldn't give me a dime to get a cup of coffee + with; not a dime to get a cup of coffee. Oh, if I once get my hands on + you!” His wrath strangled him. He clutched at the darkness in front of + him, his breath fairly whistling between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + That night he walked the streets until the morning, wondering what now he + was to do to fight the wolf away. The morning of the next day towards ten + o'clock he was on Kearney Street, still walking, still tramping the + streets, since there was nothing else for him to do. By and by he paused + on a corner near a music store, finding a momentary amusement in watching + two or three men loading a piano upon a dray. Already half its weight was + supported by the dray's backboard. One of the men, a big mulatto, almost + hidden under the mass of glistening rosewood, was guiding its course, + while the other two heaved and tugged in the rear. Something in the street + frightened the horses and they shied abruptly. The end of the piano was + twitched sharply from the backboard. There was a cry, the mulatto + staggered and fell with the falling piano, and its weight dropped squarely + upon his thigh, which broke with a resounding crack. + </p> + <p> + An hour later McTeague had found his job. The music store engaged him as + handler at six dollars a week. McTeague's enormous strength, useless all + his life, stood him in good stead at last. + </p> + <p> + He slept in a tiny back room opening from the storeroom of the music + store. He was in some sense a watchman as well as handler, and went the + rounds of the store twice every night. His room was a box of a place that + reeked with odors of stale tobacco smoke. The former occupant had papered + the walls with newspapers and had pasted up figures cut out from the + posters of some Kiralfy ballet, very gaudy. By the one window, chittering + all day in its little gilt prison, hung the canary bird, a tiny atom of + life that McTeague still clung to with a strange obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + McTeague drank a good deal of whiskey in these days, but the only effect + it had upon him was to increase the viciousness and bad temper that had + developed in him since the beginning of his misfortunes. He terrorized his + fellow-handlers, powerful men though they were. For a gruff word, for an + awkward movement in lading the pianos, for a surly look or a muttered + oath, the dentist's elbow would crook and his hand contract to a + mallet-like fist. As often as not the blow followed, colossal in its + force, swift as the leap of the piston from its cylinder. + </p> + <p> + His hatred of Trina increased from day to day. He'd make her dance yet. + Wait only till he got his hands upon her. She'd let him starve, would she? + She'd turn him out of doors while she hid her five thousand dollars in the + bottom of her trunk. Aha, he would see about that some day. She couldn't + make small of him. Ah, no. She'd dance all right—all right. McTeague + was not an imaginative man by nature, but he would lie awake nights, his + clumsy wits galloping and frisking under the lash of the alcohol, and + fancy himself thrashing his wife, till a sudden frenzy of rage would + overcome him, and he would shake all over, rolling upon the bed and biting + the mattress. + </p> + <p> + On a certain day, about a week after Christmas of that year, McTeague was + on one of the top floors of the music store, where the second-hand + instruments were kept, helping to move about and rearrange some old + pianos. As he passed by one of the counters he paused abruptly, his eye + caught by an object that was strangely familiar. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he inquired, addressing the clerk in charge, “say, where'd this + come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, let's see. We got that from a second-hand store up on Polk Street, I + guess. It's a fairly good machine; a little tinkering with the stops and a + bit of shellac, and we'll make it about's good as new. Good tone. See.” + And the clerk drew a long, sonorous wail from the depths of McTeague's old + concertina. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's mine,” growled the dentist. + </p> + <p> + The other laughed. “It's yours for eleven dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “It's mine,” persisted McTeague. “I want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Go 'long with you, Mac. What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that it's mine, that's what I mean. You got no right to it. It was + STOLEN from me, that's what I mean,” he added, a sullen anger flaming up + in his little eyes. + </p> + <p> + The clerk raised a shoulder and put the concertina on an upper shelf. + </p> + <p> + “You talk to the boss about that; t'ain't none of my affair. If you want + to buy it, it's eleven dollars.” + </p> + <p> + The dentist had been paid off the day before and had four dollars in his + wallet at the moment. He gave the money to the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Here, there's part of the money. You—you put that concertina aside + for me, an' I'll give you the rest in a week or so—I'll give it to + you tomorrow,” he exclaimed, struck with a sudden idea. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had sadly missed his concertina. Sunday afternoons when there was + no work to be done, he was accustomed to lie flat on his back on his + springless bed in the little room in the rear of the music store, his coat + and shoes off, reading the paper, drinking steam beer from a pitcher, and + smoking his pipe. But he could no longer play his six lugubrious airs upon + his concertina, and it was a deprivation. He often wondered where it was + gone. It had been lost, no doubt, in the general wreck of his fortunes. + Once, even, the dentist had taken a concertina from the lot kept by the + music store. It was a Sunday and no one was about. But he found he could + not play upon it. The stops were arranged upon a system he did not + understand. + </p> + <p> + Now his own concertina was come back to him. He would buy it back. He had + given the clerk four dollars. He knew where he would get the remaining + seven. + </p> + <p> + The clerk had told him the concertina had been sold on Polk Street to the + second-hand store there. Trina had sold it. McTeague knew it. Trina had + sold his concertina—had stolen it and sold it—his concertina, + his beloved concertina, that he had had all his life. Why, barring the + canary, there was not one of all his belongings that McTeague had + cherished more dearly. His steel engraving of “Lorenzo de' Medici and his + Court” might be lost, his stone pug dog might go, but his concertina! + </p> + <p> + “And she sold it—stole it from me and sold it. Just because I + happened to forget to take it along with me. Well, we'll just see about + that. You'll give me the money to buy it back, or——” + </p> + <p> + His rage loomed big within him. His hatred of Trina came back upon him + like a returning surge. He saw her small, prim mouth, her narrow blue + eyes, her black mane of hair, and up-tilted chin, and hated her the more + because of them. Aha, he'd show her; he'd make her dance. He'd get that + seven dollars from her, or he'd know the reason why. He went through his + work that day, heaving and hauling at the ponderous pianos, handling them + with the ease of a lifting crane, impatient for the coming of evening, + when he could be left to his own devices. As often as he had a moment to + spare he went down the street to the nearest saloon and drank a pony of + whiskey. Now and then as he fought and struggled with the vast masses of + ebony, rosewood, and mahogany on the upper floor of the music store, + raging and chafing at their inertness and unwillingness, while the whiskey + pirouetted in his brain, he would mutter to himself: + </p> + <p> + “An' I got to do this. I got to work like a dray horse while she sits at + home by her stove and counts her money—and sells my concertina.” + </p> + <p> + Six o'clock came. Instead of supper, McTeague drank some more whiskey, + five ponies in rapid succession. After supper he was obliged to go out + with the dray to deliver a concert grand at the Odd Fellows' Hall, where a + piano “recital” was to take place. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you coming back with us?” asked one of the handlers as he climbed + upon the driver's seat after the piano had been put in place. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” returned the dentist; “I got something else to do.” The + brilliant lights of a saloon near the City Hall caught his eye. He decided + he would have another drink of whiskey. It was about eight o'clock. + </p> + <p> + The following day was to be a fete day at the kindergarten, the Christmas + and New Year festivals combined. All that afternoon the little two-story + building on Pacific Street had been filled with a number of grand ladies + of the Kindergarten Board, who were hanging up ropes of evergreen and + sprays of holly, and arranging a great Christmas tree that stood in the + centre of the ring in the schoolroom. The whole place was pervaded with a + pungent, piney odor. Trina had been very busy since the early morning, + coming and going at everybody's call, now running down the street after + another tack-hammer or a fresh supply of cranberries, now tying together + the ropes of evergreen and passing them up to one of the grand ladies as + she carefully balanced herself on a step-ladder. By evening everything was + in place. As the last grand lady left the school, she gave Trina an extra + dollar for her work, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, if you'll just tidy up here, Mrs. McTeague, I think that will be + all. Sweep up the pine needles here—you see they are all over the + floor—and look through all the rooms, and tidy up generally. Good + night—and a Happy New Year,” she cried pleasantly as she went out. + </p> + <p> + Trina put the dollar away in her trunk before she did anything else and + cooked herself a bit of supper. Then she came downstairs again. + </p> + <p> + The kindergarten was not large. On the lower floor were but two rooms, the + main schoolroom and another room, a cloakroom, very small, where the + children hung their hats and coats. This cloakroom opened off the back of + the main schoolroom. Trina cast a critical glance into both of these + rooms. There had been a great deal of going and coming in them during the + day, and she decided that the first thing to do would be to scrub the + floors. She went up again to her room overhead and heated some water over + her oil stove; then, re-descending, set to work vigorously. + </p> + <p> + By nine o'clock she had almost finished with the schoolroom. She was down + on her hands and knees in the midst of a steaming muck of soapy water. On + her feet were a pair of man's shoes fastened with buckles; a dirty cotton + gown, damp with the water, clung about her shapeless, stunted figure. From + time to time she sat back on her heels to ease the strain of her position, + and with one smoking hand, white and parboiled with the hot water, brushed + her hair, already streaked with gray, out of her weazened, pale face and + the corners of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + It was very quiet. A gas-jet without a globe lit up the place with a + crude, raw light. The cat who lived on the premises, preferring to be + dirty rather than to be wet, had got into the coal scuttle, and over its + rim watched her sleepily with a long, complacent purr. + </p> + <p> + All at once he stopped purring, leaving an abrupt silence in the air like + the sudden shutting off of a stream of water, while his eyes grew wide, + two lambent disks of yellow in the heap of black fur. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” cried Trina, sitting back on her heels. In the stillness + that succeeded, the water dripped from her hands with the steady tick of a + clock. Then a brutal fist swung open the street door of the schoolroom and + McTeague came in. He was drunk; not with that drunkenness which is stupid, + maudlin, wavering on its feet, but with that which is alert, unnaturally + intelligent, vicious, perfectly steady, deadly wicked. Trina only had to + look once at him, and in an instant, with some strange sixth sense, born + of the occasion, knew what she had to expect. + </p> + <p> + She jumped up and ran from him into the little cloakroom. She locked and + bolted the door after her, and leaned her weight against it, panting and + trembling, every nerve shrinking and quivering with the fear of him. + </p> + <p> + McTeague put his hand on the knob of the door outside and opened it, + tearing off the lock and bolt guard, and sending her staggering across the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Mac,” she cried to him, as he came in, speaking with horrid rapidity, + cringing and holding out her hands, “Mac, listen. Wait a minute—look + here—listen here. It wasn't my fault. I'll give you some money. You + can come back. I'll do ANYTHING you want. Won't you just LISTEN to me? Oh, + don't! I'll scream. I can't help it, you know. The people will hear.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague came towards her slowly, his immense feet dragging and grinding + on the floor; his enormous fists, hard as wooden mallets, swinging at his + sides. Trina backed from him to the corner of the room, cowering before + him, holding her elbow crooked in front of her face, watching him with + fearful intentness, ready to dodge. + </p> + <p> + “I want that money,” he said, pausing in front of her. + </p> + <p> + “What money?” cried Trina. + </p> + <p> + “I want that money. You got it—that five thousand dollars. I want + every nickel of it! You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't it. It isn't here. Uncle Oelbermann's got it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie. He told me that you came and got it. You've had it long + enough; now I want it. Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Mac, I can't give you that money. I—I WON'T give it to you,” Trina + cried, with sudden resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will. You'll give me every nickel of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, NO.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't going to make small of me this time. Give me that money.” + </p> + <p> + “NO.” + </p> + <p> + “For the last time, will you give me that money?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't, huh? You won't give me it? For the last time.” + </p> + <p> + “No, NO.” + </p> + <p> + Usually the dentist was slow in his movements, but now the alcohol had + awakened in him an ape-like agility. He kept his small eyes upon her, and + all at once sent his fist into the middle of her face with the suddenness + of a relaxed spring. + </p> + <p> + Beside herself with terror, Trina turned and fought him back; fought for + her miserable life with the exasperation and strength of a harassed cat; + and with such energy and such wild, unnatural force, that even McTeague + for the moment drew back from her. But her resistance was the one thing to + drive him to the top of his fury. He came back at her again, his eyes + drawn to two fine twinkling points, and his enormous fists, clenched till + the knuckles whitened, raised in the air. + </p> + <p> + Then it became abominable. + </p> + <p> + In the schoolroom outside, behind the coal scuttle, the cat listened to + the sounds of stamping and struggling and the muffled noise of blows, + wildly terrified, his eyes bulging like brass knobs. At last the sounds + stopped on a sudden; he heard nothing more. Then McTeague came out, + closing the door. The cat followed him with distended eyes as he crossed + the room and disappeared through the street door. + </p> + <p> + The dentist paused for a moment on the sidewalk, looking carefully up and + down the street. It was deserted and quiet. He turned sharply to the right + and went down a narrow passage that led into the little court yard behind + the school. A candle was burning in Trina's room. He went up by the + outside stairway and entered. + </p> + <p> + The trunk stood locked in one corner of the room. The dentist took the + lid-lifter from the little oil stove, put it underneath the lock-clasp and + wrenched it open. Groping beneath a pile of dresses he found the + chamois-skin bag, the little brass match-box, and, at the very bottom, + carefully thrust into one corner, the canvas sack crammed to the mouth + with twenty-dollar gold pieces. He emptied the chamois-skin bag and the + matchbox into the pockets of his trousers. But the canvas sack was too + bulky to hide about his clothes. “I guess I'll just naturally have to + carry YOU,” he muttered. He blew out the candle, closed the door, and + gained the street again. + </p> + <p> + The dentist crossed the city, going back to the music store. It was a + little after eleven o'clock. The night was moonless, filled with a gray + blur of faint light that seemed to come from all quarters of the horizon + at once. From time to time there were sudden explosions of a southeast + wind at the street corners. McTeague went on, slanting his head against + the gusts, to keep his cap from blowing off, carrying the sack close to + his side. Once he looked critically at the sky. + </p> + <p> + “I bet it'll rain to-morrow,” he muttered, “if this wind works round to + the south.” + </p> + <p> + Once in his little den behind the music store, he washed his hands and + forearms, and put on his working clothes, blue overalls and a jumper, over + cheap trousers and vest. Then he got together his small belongings—an + old campaign hat, a pair of boots, a tin of tobacco, and a pinchbeck + bracelet which he had found one Sunday in the Park, and which he believed + to be valuable. He stripped his blanket from his bed and rolled up in it + all these objects, together with the canvas sack, fastening the roll with + a half hitch such as miners use, the instincts of the old-time car-boy + coming back to him in his present confusion of mind. He changed his pipe + and his knife—a huge jackknife with a yellowed bone handle—to + the pockets of his overalls. + </p> + <p> + Then at last he stood with his hand on the door, holding up the lamp + before blowing it out, looking about to make sure he was ready to go. The + wavering light woke his canary. It stirred and began to chitter feebly, + very sleepy and cross at being awakened. McTeague started, staring at it, + and reflecting. He believed that it would be a long time before anyone + came into that room again. The canary would be days without food; it was + likely it would starve, would die there, hour by hour, in its little gilt + prison. McTeague resolved to take it with him. He took down the cage, + touching it gently with his enormous hands, and tied a couple of sacks + about it to shelter the little bird from the sharp night wind. + </p> + <p> + Then he went out, locking all the doors behind him, and turned toward the + ferry slips. The boats had ceased running hours ago, but he told himself + that by waiting till four o'clock he could get across the bay on the tug + that took over the morning papers. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + Trina lay unconscious, just as she had fallen under the last of McTeague's + blows, her body twitching with an occasional hiccough that stirred the + pool of blood in which she lay face downward. Towards morning she died + with a rapid series of hiccoughs that sounded like a piece of clockwork + running down. + </p> + <p> + The thing had been done in the cloakroom where the kindergarten children + hung their hats and coats. There was no other entrance except by going + through the main schoolroom. McTeague going out had shut the door of the + cloakroom, but had left the street door open; so when the children arrived + in the morning, they entered as usual. + </p> + <p> + About half-past eight, two or three five-year-olds, one a little colored + girl, came into the schoolroom of the kindergarten with a great chatter of + voices, going across to the cloakroom to hang up their hats and coats as + they had been taught. + </p> + <p> + Half way across the room one of them stopped and put her small nose in the + air, crying, “Um-o-o, what a funnee smell!” The others began to sniff the + air as well, and one, the daughter of a butcher, exclaimed, “'Tsmells like + my pa's shop,” adding in the next breath, “Look, what's the matter with + the kittee?” + </p> + <p> + In fact, the cat was acting strangely. He lay quite flat on the floor, his + nose pressed close to the crevice under the door of the little cloakroom, + winding his tail slowly back and forth, excited, very eager. At times he + would draw back and make a strange little clacking noise down in his + throat. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't he funnee?” said the little girl again. The cat slunk swiftly away + as the children came up. Then the tallest of the little girls swung the + door of the little cloakroom wide open and they all ran in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 20 + </h2> + <p> + The day was very hot, and the silence of high noon lay close and thick + between the steep slopes of the cañóns like an invisible, muffling fluid. + At intervals the drone of an insect bored the air and trailed slowly to + silence again. Everywhere were pungent, aromatic smells. The vast, + moveless heat seemed to distil countless odors from the brush—odors + of warm sap, of pine needles, and of tar-weed, and above all the medicinal + odor of witch hazel. As far as one could look, uncounted multitudes of + trees and manzanita bushes were quietly and motionlessly growing, growing, + growing. A tremendous, immeasurable Life pushed steadily heavenward + without a sound, without a motion. At turns of the road, on the higher + points, cañóns disclosed themselves far away, gigantic grooves in the + landscape, deep blue in the distance, opening one into another, + ocean-deep, silent, huge, and suggestive of colossal primeval forces held + in reserve. At their bottoms they were solid, massive; on their crests + they broke delicately into fine serrated edges where the pines and + redwoods outlined their million of tops against the high white horizon. + Here and there the mountains lifted themselves out of the narrow river + beds in groups like giant lions rearing their heads after drinking. The + entire region was untamed. In some places east of the Mississippi nature + is cosey, intimate, small, and homelike, like a good-natured housewife. In + Placer County, California, she is a vast, unconquered brute of the + Pliocene epoch, savage, sullen, and magnificently indifferent to man. + </p> + <p> + But there were men in these mountains, like lice on mammoths' hides, + fighting them stubbornly, now with hydraulic “monitors,” now with drill + and dynamite, boring into the vitals of them, or tearing away great yellow + gravelly scars in the flanks of them, sucking their blood, extracting + gold. + </p> + <p> + Here and there at long distances upon the cañón sides rose the headgear of + a mine, surrounded with its few unpainted houses, and topped by its + never-failing feather of black smoke. On near approach one heard the + prolonged thunder of the stamp-mill, the crusher, the insatiable monster, + gnashing the rocks to powder with its long iron teeth, vomiting them out + again in a thin stream of wet gray mud. Its enormous maw, fed night and + day with the car-boys' loads, gorged itself with gravel, and spat out the + gold, grinding the rocks between its jaws, glutted, as it were, with the + very entrails of the earth, and growling over its endless meal, like some + savage animal, some legendary dragon, some fabulous beast, symbol of + inordinate and monstrous gluttony. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had left the Overland train at Colfax, and the same afternoon had + ridden some eight miles across the mountains in the stage that connects + Colfax with Iowa Hill. Iowa Hill was a small one-street town, the + headquarters of the mines of the district. Originally it had been built + upon the summit of a mountain, but the sides of this mountain have long + since been “hydrau-licked” away, so that the town now clings to a mere + back bone, and the rear windows of the houses on both sides of the street + look down over sheer precipices, into vast pits hundreds of feet deep. + </p> + <p> + The dentist stayed over night at the Hill, and the next morning started + off on foot farther into the mountains. He still wore his blue overalls + and jumper; his woollen cap was pulled down over his eye; on his feet were + hob-nailed boots he had bought at the store in Colfax; his blanket roll + was over his back; in his left hand swung the bird cage wrapped in sacks. + </p> + <p> + Just outside the town he paused, as if suddenly remembering something. + </p> + <p> + “There ought to be a trail just off the road here,” he muttered. “There + used to be a trail—a short cut.” + </p> + <p> + The next instant, without moving from his position, he saw where it opened + just before him. His instinct had halted him at the exact spot. The trail + zigzagged down the abrupt descent of the cañón, debouching into a gravelly + river bed. + </p> + <p> + “Indian River,” muttered the dentist. “I remember—I remember. I + ought to hear the Morning Star's stamps from here.” He cocked his head. A + low, sustained roar, like a distant cataract, came to his ears from across + the river. “That's right,” he said, contentedly. He crossed the river and + regained the road beyond. The slope rose under his feet; a little farther + on he passed the Morning Star mine, smoking and thundering. McTeague + pushed steadily on. The road rose with the rise of the mountain, turned at + a sharp angle where a great live-oak grew, and held level for nearly a + quarter of a mile. Twice again the dentist left the road and took to the + trail that cut through deserted hydraulic pits. He knew exactly where to + look for these trails; not once did his instinct deceive him. He + recognized familiar points at once. Here was Cold cañón, where invariably, + winter and summer, a chilly wind was blowing; here was where the road to + Spencer's branched off; here was Bussy's old place, where at one time + there were so many dogs; here was Delmue's cabin, where unlicensed whiskey + used to be sold; here was the plank bridge with its one rotten board; and + here the flat overgrown with manzanita, where he once had shot three + quail. + </p> + <p> + At noon, after he had been tramping for some two hours, he halted at a + point where the road dipped suddenly. A little to the right of him, and + flanking the road, an enormous yellow gravel-pit like an emptied lake + gaped to heaven. Farther on, in the distance, a cañón zigzagged toward the + horizon, rugged with pine-clad mountain crests. Nearer at hand, and + directly in the line of the road, was an irregular cluster of unpainted + cabins. A dull, prolonged roar vibrated in the air. McTeague nodded his + head as if satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “That's the place,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He reshouldered his blanket roll and descended the road. At last he halted + again. He stood before a low one-story building, differing from the others + in that it was painted. A verandah, shut in with mosquito netting, + surrounded it. McTeague dropped his blanket roll on a lumber pile outside, + and came up and knocked at the open door. Some one called to him to come + in. + </p> + <p> + McTeague entered, rolling his eyes about him, noting the changes that had + been made since he had last seen this place. A partition had been knocked + down, making one big room out of the two former small ones. A counter and + railing stood inside the door. There was a telephone on the wall. In one + corner he also observed a stack of surveyor's instruments; a big + drawing-board straddled on spindle legs across one end of the room, a + mechanical drawing of some kind, no doubt the plan of the mine, unrolled + upon it; a chromo representing a couple of peasants in a ploughed field + (Millet's “Angelus”) was nailed unframed upon the wall, and hanging from + the same wire nail that secured one of its corners in place was a bullion + bag and a cartridge belt with a loaded revolver in the pouch. + </p> + <p> + The dentist approached the counter and leaned his elbows upon it. Three + men were in the room—a tall, lean young man, with a thick head of + hair surprisingly gray, who was playing with a half-grown great Dane + puppy; another fellow about as young, but with a jaw almost as salient as + McTeague's, stood at the letter-press taking a copy of a letter; a third + man, a little older than the other two, was pottering over a transit. This + latter was massively built, and wore overalls and low boots streaked and + stained and spotted in every direction with gray mud. The dentist looked + slowly from one to the other; then at length, “Is the foreman about?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + The man in the muddy overalls came forward. + </p> + <p> + “What you want?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a strong German accent. + </p> + <p> + The old invariable formula came back to McTeague on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “What's the show for a job?” + </p> + <p> + At once the German foreman became preoccupied, looking aimlessly out of + the window. There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + “You hev been miner alretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Know how to hendle pick'n shov'le?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know.” + </p> + <p> + The other seemed unsatisfied. “Are you a 'cousin Jack'?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist grinned. This prejudice against Cornishmen he remembered too. + </p> + <p> + “No. American.” + </p> + <p> + “How long sence you mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, year or two.” + </p> + <p> + “Show your hends.” McTeague exhibited his hard, callused palms. + </p> + <p> + “When ken you go to work? I want a chuck-tender on der night-shift.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tend a chuck. I'll go on to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your name?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist started. He had forgotten to be prepared for this. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? What?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the name?” + </p> + <p> + McTeague's eye was caught by a railroad calendar hanging over the desk. + There was no time to think. + </p> + <p> + “Burlington,” he said, loudly. + </p> + <p> + The German took a card from a file and wrote it down. + </p> + <p> + “Give dis card to der boarding-boss, down at der boarding-haus, den gome + find me bei der mill at sex o'clock, und I set you to work.” + </p> + <p> + Straight as a homing pigeon, and following a blind and unreasoned + instinct, McTeague had returned to the Big Dipper mine. Within a week's + time it seemed to him as though he had never been away. He picked up his + life again exactly where he had left it the day when his mother had sent + him away with the travelling dentist, the charlatan who had set up his + tent by the bunk house. The house McTeague had once lived in was still + there, occupied by one of the shift bosses and his family. The dentist + passed it on his way to and from the mine. + </p> + <p> + He himself slept in the bunk house with some thirty others of his shift. + At half-past five in the evening the cook at the boarding-house sounded a + prolonged alarm upon a crowbar bent in the form of a triangle, that hung + upon the porch of the boarding-house. McTeague rose and dressed, and with + his shift had supper. Their lunch-pails were distributed to them. Then he + made his way to the tunnel mouth, climbed into a car in the waiting ore + train, and was hauled into the mine. + </p> + <p> + Once inside, the hot evening air turned to a cool dampness, and the forest + odors gave place to the smell of stale dynamite smoke, suggestive of + burning rubber. A cloud of steam came from McTeague's mouth; underneath, + the water swashed and rippled around the car-wheels, while the light from + the miner's candlesticks threw wavering blurs of pale yellow over the gray + rotting quartz of the roof and walls. Occasionally McTeague bent down his + head to avoid the lagging of the roof or the projections of an overhanging + shute. From car to car all along the line the miners called to one another + as the train trundled along, joshing and laughing. + </p> + <p> + A mile from the entrance the train reached the breast where McTeague's + gang worked. The men clambered from the cars and took up the labor where + the day shift had left it, burrowing their way steadily through a primeval + river bed. + </p> + <p> + The candlesticks thrust into the crevices of the gravel strata lit up + faintly the half dozen moving figures befouled with sweat and with wet + gray mould. The picks struck into the loose gravel with a yielding shock. + The long-handled shovels clinked amidst the piles of bowlders and scraped + dully in the heaps of rotten quartz. The Burly drill boring for blasts + broke out from time to time in an irregular chug-chug, chug-chug, while + the engine that pumped the water from the mine coughed and strangled at + short intervals. + </p> + <p> + McTeague tended the chuck. In a way he was the assistant of the man who + worked the Burly. It was his duty to replace the drills in the Burly, + putting in longer ones as the hole got deeper and deeper. From time to + time he rapped the drill with a pole-pick when it stuck fast or fitchered. + </p> + <p> + Once it even occurred to him that there was a resemblance between his + present work and the profession he had been forced to abandon. In the + Burly drill he saw a queer counterpart of his old-time dental engine; and + what were the drills and chucks but enormous hoe excavators, hard bits, + and burrs? It was the same work he had so often performed in his + “Parlors,” only magnified, made monstrous, distorted, and grotesqued, the + caricature of dentistry. + </p> + <p> + He passed his nights thus in the midst of the play of crude and simple + forces—the powerful attacks of the Burly drills; the great exertions + of bared, bent backs overlaid with muscle; the brusque, resistless + expansion of dynamite; and the silent, vast, Titanic force, mysterious and + slow, that cracked the timbers supporting the roof of the tunnel, and that + gradually flattened the lagging till it was thin as paper. + </p> + <p> + The life pleased the dentist beyond words. The still, colossal mountains + took him back again like a returning prodigal, and vaguely, without + knowing why, he yielded to their influence—their immensity, their + enormous power, crude and blind, reflecting themselves in his own nature, + huge, strong, brutal in its simplicity. And this, though he only saw the + mountains at night. They appeared far different then than in the daytime. + At twelve o'clock he came out of the mine and lunched on the contents of + his dinner-pail, sitting upon the embankment of the track, eating with + both hands, and looking around him with a steady ox-like gaze. The + mountains rose sheer from every side, heaving their gigantic crests far up + into the night, the black peaks crowding together, and looking now less + like beasts than like a company of cowled giants. In the daytime they were + silent; but at night they seemed to stir and rouse themselves. + Occasionally the stamp-mill stopped, its thunder ceasing abruptly. Then + one could hear the noises that the mountains made in their living. From + the cañón, from the crowding crests, from the whole immense landscape, + there rose a steady and prolonged sound, coming from all sides at once. It + was that incessant and muffled roar which disengages itself from all vast + bodies, from oceans, from cities, from forests, from sleeping armies, and + which is like the breathing of an infinitely great monster, alive, + palpitating. + </p> + <p> + McTeague returned to his work. At six in the morning his shift was taken + off, and he went out of the mine and back to the bunk house. All day long + he slept, flung at length upon the strong-smelling blankets—slept + the dreamless sleep of exhaustion, crushed and overpowered with the work, + flat and prone upon his belly, till again in the evening the cook sounded + the alarm upon the crowbar bent into a triangle. + </p> + <p> + Every alternate week the shifts were changed. The second week McTeague's + shift worked in the daytime and slept at night. Wednesday night of this + second week the dentist woke suddenly. He sat up in his bed in the bunk + house, looking about him from side to side; an alarm clock hanging on the + wall, over a lantern, marked half-past three. + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” muttered the dentist. “I wonder what it was.” The rest of + the shift were sleeping soundly, filling the room with the rasping sound + of snoring. Everything was in its accustomed place; nothing stirred. But + for all that McTeague got up and lit his miner's candlestick and went + carefully about the room, throwing the light into the dark corners, + peering under all the beds, including his own. Then he went to the door + and stepped outside. The night was warm and still; the moon, very low, and + canted on her side like a galleon foundering. The camp was very quiet; + nobody was in sight. “I wonder what it was,” muttered the dentist. “There + was something—why did I wake up? Huh?” He made a circuit about the + bunk house, unusually alert, his small eyes twinkling rapidly, seeing + everything. All was quiet. An old dog who invariably slept on the steps of + the bunk house had not even wakened. McTeague went back to bed, but did + not sleep. + </p> + <p> + “There was SOMETHING,” he muttered, looking in a puzzled way at his canary + in the cage that hung from the wall at his bedside; “something. What was + it? There is something NOW. There it is again—the same thing.” He + sat up in bed with eyes and ears strained. “What is it? I don' know what + it is. I don' hear anything, an' I don' see anything. I feel something—right + now; feel it now. I wonder—I don' know—I don' know.” + </p> + <p> + Once more he got up, and this time dressed himself. He made a complete + tour of the camp, looking and listening, for what he did not know. He even + went to the outskirts of the camp and for nearly half an hour watched the + road that led into the camp from the direction of Iowa Hill. He saw + nothing; not even a rabbit stirred. He went to bed. + </p> + <p> + But from this time on there was a change. The dentist grew restless, + uneasy. Suspicion of something, he could not say what, annoyed him + incessantly. He went wide around sharp corners. At every moment he looked + sharply over his shoulder. He even went to bed with his clothes and cap + on, and at every hour during the night would get up and prowl about the + bunk house, one ear turned down the wind, his eyes gimleting the darkness. + From time to time he would murmur: + </p> + <p> + “There's something. What is it? I wonder what it is.” + </p> + <p> + What strange sixth sense stirred in McTeague at this time? What animal + cunning, what brute instinct clamored for recognition and obedience? What + lower faculty was it that roused his suspicion, that drove him out into + the night a score of times between dark and dawn, his head in the air, his + eyes and ears keenly alert? + </p> + <p> + One night as he stood on the steps of the bunk house, peering into the + shadows of the camp, he uttered an exclamation as of a man suddenly + enlightened. He turned back into the house, drew from under his bed the + blanket roll in which he kept his money hid, and took the canary down from + the wall. He strode to the door and disappeared into the night. When the + sheriff of Placer County and the two deputies from San Francisco reached + the Big Dipper mine, McTeague had been gone two days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 21 + </h2> + <p> + “Well,” said one of the deputies, as he backed the horse into the shafts + of the buggy in which the pursuers had driven over from the Hill, “we've + about as good as got him. It isn't hard to follow a man who carries a bird + cage with him wherever he goes.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague crossed the mountains on foot the Friday and Saturday of that + week, going over through Emigrant Gap, following the line of the Overland + railroad. He reached Reno Monday night. By degrees a vague plan of action + outlined itself in the dentist's mind. + </p> + <p> + “Mexico,” he muttered to himself. “Mexico, that's the place. They'll watch + the coast and they'll watch the Eastern trains, but they won't think of + Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of pursuit which had harassed him during the last week of his + stay at the Big Dipper mine had worn off, and he believed himself to be + very cunning. + </p> + <p> + “I'm pretty far ahead now, I guess,” he said. At Reno he boarded a + south-bound freight on the line of the Carson and Colorado railroad, + paying for a passage in the caboose. “Freights don' run on schedule time,” + he muttered, “and a conductor on a passenger train makes it his business + to study faces. I'll stay with this train as far as it goes.” + </p> + <p> + The freight worked slowly southward, through western Nevada, the country + becoming hourly more and more desolate and abandoned. After leaving Walker + Lake the sage-brush country began, and the freight rolled heavily over + tracks that threw off visible layers of heat. At times it stopped whole + half days on sidings or by water tanks, and the engineer and fireman came + back to the caboose and played poker with the conductor and train crew. + The dentist sat apart, behind the stove, smoking pipe after pipe of cheap + tobacco. Sometimes he joined in the poker games. He had learned poker when + a boy at the mine, and after a few deals his knowledge returned to him; + but for the most part he was taciturn and unsociable, and rarely spoke to + the others unless spoken to first. The crew recognized the type, and the + impression gained ground among them that he had “done for” a livery-stable + keeper at Truckee and was trying to get down into Arizona. + </p> + <p> + McTeague heard two brakemen discussing him one night as they stood outside + by the halted train. “The livery-stable keeper called him a bastard; + that's what Picachos told me,” one of them remarked, “and started to draw + his gun; an' this fellar did for him with a hayfork. He's a horse doctor, + this chap is, and the livery-stable keeper had got the law on him so's he + couldn't practise any more, an' he was sore about it.” + </p> + <p> + Near a place called Queen's the train reentered California, and McTeague + observed with relief that the line of track which had hitherto held + westward curved sharply to the south again. The train was unmolested; + occasionally the crew fought with a gang of tramps who attempted to ride + the brake beams, and once in the northern part of Inyo County, while they + were halted at a water tank, an immense Indian buck, blanketed to the + ground, approached McTeague as he stood on the roadbed stretching his + legs, and without a word presented to him a filthy, crumpled letter. The + letter was to the effect that the buck Big Jim was a good Indian and + deserving of charity; the signature was illegible. The dentist stared at + the letter, returned it to the buck, and regained the train just as it + started. Neither had spoken; the buck did not move from his position, and + fully five minutes afterward, when the slow-moving freight was miles away, + the dentist looked back and saw him still standing motionless between the + rails, a forlorn and solitary point of red, lost in the immensity of the + surrounding white blur of the desert. + </p> + <p> + At length the mountains began again, rising up on either side of the + track; vast, naked hills of white sand and red rock, spotted with blue + shadows. Here and there a patch of green was spread like a gay table-cloth + over the sand. All at once Mount Whitney leaped over the horizon. + Independence was reached and passed; the freight, nearly emptied by now, + and much shortened, rolled along the shores of Owen Lake. At a place + called Keeler it stopped definitely. It was the terminus of the road. + </p> + <p> + The town of Keeler was a one-street town, not unlike Iowa Hill—the + post-office, the bar and hotel, the Odd Fellows' Hall, and the livery + stable being the principal buildings. + </p> + <p> + “Where to now?” muttered McTeague to himself as he sat on the edge of the + bed in his room in the hotel. He hung the canary in the window, filled its + little bathtub, and watched it take its bath with enormous satisfaction. + “Where to now?” he muttered again. “This is as far as the railroad goes, + an' it won' do for me to stay in a town yet a while; no, it won' do. I got + to clear out. Where to? That's the word, where to? I'll go down to supper + now”—He went on whispering his thoughts aloud, so that they would + take more concrete shape in his mind—“I'll go down to supper now, + an' then I'll hang aroun' the bar this evening till I get the lay of this + land. Maybe this is fruit country, though it looks more like a cattle + country. Maybe it's a mining country. If it's a mining country,” he + continued, puckering his heavy eyebrows, “if it's a mining country, an' + the mines are far enough off the roads, maybe I'd better get to the mines + an' lay quiet for a month before I try to get any farther south.” + </p> + <p> + He washed the cinders and dust of a week's railroading from his face and + hair, put on a fresh pair of boots, and went down to supper. The + dining-room was of the invariable type of the smaller interior towns of + California. There was but one table, covered with oilcloth; rows of + benches answered for chairs; a railroad map, a chromo with a gilt frame + protected by mosquito netting, hung on the walls, together with a yellowed + photograph of the proprietor in Masonic regalia. Two waitresses whom the + guests—all men—called by their first names, came and went with + large trays. + </p> + <p> + Through the windows outside McTeague observed a great number of saddle + horses tied to trees and fences. Each one of these horses had a riata on + the pommel of the saddle. He sat down to the table, eating his thick hot + soup, watching his neighbors covertly, listening to everything that was + said. It did not take him long to gather that the country to the east and + south of Keeler was a cattle country. + </p> + <p> + Not far off, across a range of hills, was the Panamint Valley, where the + big cattle ranges were. Every now and then this name was tossed to and fro + across the table in the flow of conversation—“Over in the Panamint.” + “Just going down for a rodeo in the Panamint.” “Panamint brands.” “Has a + range down in the Panamint.” Then by and by the remark, “Hoh, yes, Gold + Gulch, they're down to good pay there. That's on the other side of the + Panamint Range. Peters came in yesterday and told me.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague turned to the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Is that a gravel mine?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, quartz.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a miner; that's why I asked.” + </p> + <p> + “Well I've mined some too. I had a hole in the ground meself, but she was + silver; and when the skunks at Washington lowered the price of silver, + where was I? Fitchered, b'God!” + </p> + <p> + “I was looking for a job.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's mostly cattle down here in the Panamint, but since the strike + over at Gold Gulch some of the boys have gone prospecting. There's gold in + them damn Panamint Mountains. If you can find a good long 'contact' of + country rocks you ain't far from it. There's a couple of fellars from + Redlands has located four claims around Gold Gulch. They got a vein + eighteen inches wide, an' Peters says you can trace it for more'n a + thousand feet. Were you thinking of prospecting over there?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, I don' know, I don' know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm going over to the other side of the range day after t'morrow + after some ponies of mine, an' I'm going to have a look around. You say + you've been a miner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're going over that way, you might come along and see if we can't + find a contact, or copper sulphurets, or something. Even if we don't find + color we may find silver-bearing galena.” Then, after a pause, “Let's see, + I didn't catch your name.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? My name's Carter,” answered McTeague, promptly. Why he should change + his name again the dentist could not say. “Carter” came to his mind at + once, and he answered without reflecting that he had registered as + “Burlington” when he had arrived at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my name's Cribbens,” answered the other. The two shook hands + solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “You're about finished?” continued Cribbens, pushing back. “Le's go out in + the bar an' have a drink on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” said the dentist. + </p> + <p> + The two sat up late that night in a corner of the barroom discussing the + probability of finding gold in the Panamint hills. It soon became evident + that they held differing theories. McTeague clung to the old prospector's + idea that there was no way of telling where gold was until you actually + saw it. Cribbens had evidently read a good many books upon the subject, + and had already prospected in something of a scientific manner. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks!” he exclaimed. “Gi' me a long distinct contact between + sedimentary and igneous rocks, an' I'll sink a shaft without ever SEEING + 'color.'” + </p> + <p> + The dentist put his huge chin in the air. “Gold is where you find it,” he + returned, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's my idea as how pardners ought to work along different lines,” + said Cribbens. He tucked the corners of his mustache into his mouth and + sucked the tobacco juice from them. For a moment he was thoughtful, then + he blew out his mustache abruptly, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Carter, le's make a go of this. You got a little cash I suppose—fifty + dollars or so?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Yes—I—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got about fifty. We'll go pardners on the proposition, an' we'll + dally 'round the range yonder an' see what we can see. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” answered the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a go then, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, le's have a drink on it.” + </p> + <p> + They drank with profound gravity. + </p> + <p> + They fitted out the next day at the general merchandise store of Keeler—picks, + shovels, prospectors' hammers, a couple of cradles, pans, bacon, flour, + coffee, and the like, and they bought a burro on which to pack their kit. + </p> + <p> + “Say, by jingo, you ain't got a horse,” suddenly exclaimed Cribbens as + they came out of the store. “You can't get around this country without a + pony of some kind.” + </p> + <p> + Cribbens already owned and rode a buckskin cayuse that had to be knocked + in the head and stunned before it could be saddled. “I got an extry saddle + an' a headstall at the hotel that you can use,” he said, “but you'll have + to get a horse.” + </p> + <p> + In the end the dentist bought a mule at the livery stable for forty + dollars. It turned out to be a good bargain, however, for the mule was a + good traveller and seemed actually to fatten on sage-brush and potato + parings. When the actual transaction took place, McTeague had been obliged + to get the money to pay for the mule out of the canvas sack. Cribbens was + with him at the time, and as the dentist unrolled his blankets and + disclosed the sack, whistled in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “An' me asking you if you had fifty dollars!” he exclaimed. “You carry + your mine right around with you, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh, I guess so,” muttered the dentist. “I—I just sold a claim I + had up in El Dorado County,” he added. + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock on a magnificent May morning the “pardners” jogged out of + Keeler, driving the burro before them. Cribbens rode his cayuse, McTeague + following in his rear on the mule. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” remarked Cribbens, “why in thunder don't you leave that fool canary + behind at the hotel? It's going to be in your way all the time, an' it + will sure die. Better break its neck an' chuck it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” insisted the dentist. “I've had it too long. I'll take it with + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the craziest idea I ever heard of,” remarked Cribbens, “to + take a canary along prospecting. Why not kid gloves, and be done with it?” + </p> + <p> + They travelled leisurely to the southeast during the day, following a + well-beaten cattle road, and that evening camped on a spur of some hills + at the head of the Panamint Valley where there was a spring. The next day + they crossed the Panamint itself. + </p> + <p> + “That's a smart looking valley,” observed the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “NOW you're talking straight talk,” returned Cribbens, sucking his + mustache. The valley was beautiful, wide, level, and very green. + Everywhere were herds of cattle, scarcely less wild than deer. Once or + twice cowboys passed them on the road, big-boned fellows, picturesque in + their broad hats, hairy trousers, jingling spurs, and revolver belts, + surprisingly like the pictures McTeague remembered to have seen. Everyone + of them knew Cribbens, and almost invariably joshed him on his venture. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Crib, ye'd best take a wagon train with ye to bring your dust back.” + </p> + <p> + Cribbens resented their humor, and after they had passed, chewed fiercely + on his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to make a strike, b'God! if it was only to get the laugh on them + joshers.” + </p> + <p> + By noon they were climbing the eastern slope of the Panamint Range. Long + since they had abandoned the road; vegetation ceased; not a tree was in + sight. They followed faint cattle trails that led from one water hole to + another. By degrees these water holes grew dryer and dryer, and at three + o'clock Cribbens halted and filled their canteens. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't any TOO much water on the other side,” he observed grimly. + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty hot,” muttered the dentist, wiping his streaming forehead + with the back of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” snorted the other more grimly than ever. The motionless air was + like the mouth of a furnace. Cribbens's pony lathered and panted. + McTeague's mule began to droop his long ears. Only the little burro + plodded resolutely on, picking the trail where McTeague could see but + trackless sand and stunted sage. Towards evening Cribbens, who was in the + lead, drew rein on the summit of the hills. + </p> + <p> + Behind them was the beautiful green Panamint Valley, but before and below + them for miles and miles, as far as the eye could reach, a flat, white + desert, empty even of sage-brush, unrolled toward the horizon. In the + immediate foreground a broken system of arroyos, and little cañóns tumbled + down to meet it. To the north faint blue hills shouldered themselves above + the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Cribbens, “we're on the top of the Panamint Range now. + It's along this eastern slope, right below us here, that we're going to + prospect. Gold Gulch”—he pointed with the butt of his quirt—“is + about eighteen or nineteen miles along here to the north of us. Those + hills way over yonder to the northeast are the Telescope hills.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call the desert out yonder?” McTeague's eyes wandered over + the illimitable stretch of alkali that stretched out forever and forever + to the east, to the north, and to the south. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Cribbens, “that's Death Valley.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long pause. The horses panted irregularly, the sweat dripping + from their heaving bellies. Cribbens and the dentist sat motionless in + their saddles, looking out over that abominable desolation, silent, + troubled. + </p> + <p> + “God!” ejaculated Cribbens at length, under his breath, with a shake of + his head. Then he seemed to rouse himself. “Well,” he remarked, “first + thing we got to do now is to find water.” + </p> + <p> + This was a long and difficult task. They descended into one little cañón + after another, followed the course of numberless arroyos, and even dug + where there seemed indications of moisture, all to no purpose. But at + length McTeague's mule put his nose in the air and blew once or twice + through his nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Smells it, the son of a gun!” exclaimed Cribbens. The dentist let the + animal have his head, and in a few minutes he had brought them to the bed + of a tiny cañón where a thin stream of brackish water filtered over a + ledge of rocks. + </p> + <p> + “We'll camp here,” observed Cribbens, “but we can't turn the horses loose. + We'll have to picket 'em with the lariats. I saw some loco-weed back here + a piece, and if they get to eating that, they'll sure go plum crazy. The + burro won't eat it, but I wouldn't trust the others.” + </p> + <p> + A new life began for McTeague. After breakfast the “pardners” separated, + going in opposite directions along the slope of the range, examining + rocks, picking and chipping at ledges and bowlders, looking for signs, + prospecting. McTeague went up into the little cañóns where the streams had + cut through the bed rock, searching for veins of quartz, breaking out this + quartz when he had found it, pulverizing and panning it. Cribbens hunted + for “contacts,” closely examining country rocks and out-crops, continually + on the lookout for spots where sedimentary and igneous rock came together. + </p> + <p> + One day, after a week of prospecting, they met unexpectedly on the slope + of an arroyo. It was late in the afternoon. “Hello, pardner,” exclaimed + Cribbens as he came down to where McTeague was bending over his pan. “What + luck?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist emptied his pan and straightened up. “Nothing, nothing. You + struck anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a trace. Guess we might as well be moving towards camp.” They + returned together, Cribbens telling the dentist of a group of antelope he + had seen. + </p> + <p> + “We might lay off to-morrow, an' see if we can plug a couple of them + fellers. Antelope steak would go pretty well after beans an' bacon an' + coffee week in an' week out.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague was answering, when Cribbens interrupted him with an exclamation + of profound disgust. “I thought we were the first to prospect along in + here, an' now look at that. Don't it make you sick?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed out evidences of an abandoned prospector's camp just before + them—charred ashes, empty tin cans, one or two gold-miner's pans, + and a broken pick. “Don't that make you sick?” muttered Cribbens, sucking + his mustache furiously. “To think of us mushheads going over ground that's + been covered already! Say, pardner, we'll dig out of here to-morrow. I've + been thinking, anyhow, we'd better move to the south; that water of ours + is pretty low.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I guess so,” assented the dentist. “There ain't any gold here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” protested Cribbens doggedly; “there's gold all through + these hills, if we could only strike it. I tell you what, pardner, I got a + place in mind where I'll bet no one ain't prospected—least not very + many. There don't very many care to try an' get to it. It's over on the + other side of Death Valley. It's called Gold Mountain, an' there's only + one mine been located there, an' it's paying like a nitrate bed. There + ain't many people in that country, because it's all hell to get into. + First place, you got to cross Death Valley and strike the Armagosa Range + fur off to the south. Well, no one ain't stuck on crossing the Valley, not + if they can help it. But we could work down the Panamint some hundred or + so miles, maybe two hundred, an' fetch around by the Armagosa River, way + to the south'erd. We could prospect on the way. But I guess the Armagosa'd + be dried up at this season. Anyhow,” he concluded, “we'll move camp to the + south to-morrow. We got to get new feed an' water for the horses. We'll + see if we can knock over a couple of antelope to-morrow, and then we'll + scoot.” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't got a gun,” said the dentist; “not even a revolver. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a second,” said Cribbens, pausing in his scramble down the side of + one of the smaller gulches. “Here's some slate here; I ain't seen no slate + around here yet. Let's see where it goes to.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague followed him along the side of the gulch. Cribbens went on ahead, + muttering to himself from time to time: + </p> + <p> + “Runs right along here, even enough, and here's water too. Didn't know + this stream was here; pretty near dry, though. Here's the slate again. See + where it runs, pardner?” + </p> + <p> + “Look at it up there ahead,” said McTeague. “It runs right up over the + back of this hill.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” assented Cribbens. “Hi!” he shouted suddenly, “HERE'S A + 'CONTACT,' and here it is again, and there, and yonder. Oh, look at it, + will you? That's granodiorite on slate. Couldn't want it any more distinct + than that. GOD! if we could only find the quartz between the two now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there it is,” exclaimed McTeague. “Look on ahead there; ain't that + quartz?” + </p> + <p> + “You're shouting right out loud,” vociferated Cribbens, looking where + McTeague was pointing. His face went suddenly pale. He turned to the + dentist, his eyes wide. + </p> + <p> + “By God, pardner,” he exclaimed, breathlessly. “By God—” he broke + off abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “That's what you been looking for, ain't it?” asked the dentist. + </p> + <p> + “LOOKING for! LOOKING for!” Cribbens checked himself. “That's SLATE all + right, and that's granodiorite, I know”—he bent down and examined + the rock—“and here's the quartz between 'em; there can't be no + mistake about that. Gi' me that hammer,” he cried, excitedly. “Come on, + git to work. Jab into the quartz with your pick; git out some chunks of + it.” Cribbens went down on his hands and knees, attacking the quartz vein + furiously. The dentist followed his example, swinging his pick with + enormous force, splintering the rocks at every stroke. Cribbens was + talking to himself in his excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Got you THIS time, you son of a gun! By God! I guess we got you THIS + time, at last. Looks like it, anyhow. GET a move on, pardner. There ain't + anybody 'round, is there? Hey?” Without looking, he drew his revolver and + threw it to the dentist. “Take the gun an' look around, pardner. If you + see any son of a gun ANYWHERE, PLUG him. This yere's OUR claim. I guess we + got it THIS tide, pardner. Come on.” He gathered up the chunks of quartz + he had broken out, and put them in his hat and started towards their camp. + The two went along with great strides, hurrying as fast as they could over + the uneven ground. + </p> + <p> + “I don' know,” exclaimed Cribbens, breathlessly, “I don' want to say too + much. Maybe we're fooled. Lord, that damn camp's a long ways off. Oh, I + ain't goin' to fool along this way. Come on, pardner.” He broke into a + run. McTeague followed at a lumbering gallop. Over the scorched, parched + ground, stumbling and tripping over sage-brush and sharp-pointed rocks, + under the palpitating heat of the desert sun, they ran and scrambled, + carrying the quartz lumps in their hats. + </p> + <p> + “See any 'COLOR' in it, pardner?” gasped Cribbens. “I can't, can you? + 'Twouldn't be visible nohow, I guess. Hurry up. Lord, we ain't ever going + to get to that camp.” + </p> + <p> + Finally they arrived. Cribbens dumped the quartz fragments into a pan. + </p> + <p> + “You pestle her, pardner, an' I'll fix the scales.” McTeague ground the + lumps to fine dust in the iron mortar while Cribbens set up the tiny + scales and got out the “spoons” from their outfit. + </p> + <p> + “That's fine enough,” Cribbens exclaimed, impatiently. “Now we'll spoon + her. Gi' me the water.” + </p> + <p> + Cribbens scooped up a spoonful of the fine white powder and began to spoon + it carefully. The two were on their hands and knees upon the ground, their + heads close together, still panting with excitement and the exertion of + their run. + </p> + <p> + “Can't do it,” exclaimed Cribbens, sitting back on his heels, “hand shakes + so. YOU take it, pardner. Careful, now.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague took the horn spoon and began rocking it gently in his huge + fingers, sluicing the water over the edge a little at a time, each + movement washing away a little more of the powdered quartz. The two + watched it with the intensest eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Don't see it yet; don't see it yet,” whispered Cribbens, chewing his + mustache. “LEETLE faster, pardner. That's the ticket. Careful, steady, + now; leetle more, leetle more. Don't see color yet, do you?” + </p> + <p> + The quartz sediment dwindled by degrees as McTeague spooned it steadily. + Then at last a thin streak of a foreign substance began to show just along + the edge. It was yellow. + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke. Cribbens dug his nails into the sand, and ground his + mustache between his teeth. The yellow streak broadened as the quartz + sediment washed away. Cribbens whispered: + </p> + <p> + “We got it, pardner. That's gold.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague washed the last of the white quartz dust away, and let the water + trickle after it. A pinch of gold, fine as flour, was left in the bottom + of the spoon. + </p> + <p> + “There you are,” he said. The two looked at each other. Then Cribbens rose + into the air with a great leap and a yell that could have been heard for + half a mile. + </p> + <p> + “Yee-e-ow! We GOT it, we struck it. Pardner, we got it. Out of sight. + We're millionaires.” He snatched up his revolver and fired it with + inconceivable rapidity. “PUT it there, old man,” he shouted, gripping + McTeague's palm. + </p> + <p> + “That's gold, all right,” muttered McTeague, studying the contents of the + spoon. + </p> + <p> + “You bet your great-grandma's Cochin-China Chessy cat it's gold,” shouted + Cribbens. “Here, now, we got a lot to do. We got to stake her out an' put + up the location notice. We'll take our full acreage, you bet. You—we + haven't weighed this yet. Where's the scales?” He weighed the pinch of + gold with shaking hands. “Two grains,” he cried. “That'll run five dollars + to the ton. Rich, it's rich; it's the richest kind of pay, pardner. We're + millionaires. Why don't you say something? Why don't you get excited? Why + don't you run around an' do something?” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” said McTeague, rolling his eyes. “Huh! I know, I know, we've struck + it pretty rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” exclaimed Cribbens, jumping up again. “We'll stake her out an' + put up the location notice. Lord, suppose anyone should have come on her + while we've been away.” He reloaded his revolver deliberately. “We'll drop + HIM all right, if there's anyone fooling round there; I'll tell you those + right now. Bring the rifle, pardner, an' if you see anyone, PLUG him, an' + ask him what he wants afterward.” + </p> + <p> + They hurried back to where they had made their discovery. + </p> + <p> + “To think,” exclaimed Cribbens, as he drove the first stake, “to think + those other mushheads had their camp within gunshot of her and never + located her. Guess they didn't know the meaning of a 'contact.' Oh, I knew + I was solid on 'contacts.'” + </p> + <p> + They staked out their claim, and Cribbens put up the notice of location. + It was dark before they were through. Cribbens broke off some more chunks + of quarts in the vein. + </p> + <p> + “I'll spoon this too, just for the fun of it, when I get home,” he + explained, as they tramped back to the camp. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the dentist, “we got the laugh on those cowboys.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we?” shouted Cribbens. “HAVE we? Just wait and see the rush for this + place when we tell 'em about it down in Keeler. Say, what'll we call her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, I don' know.” + </p> + <p> + “We might call her the 'Last Chance.' 'Twas our last chance, wasn't it? + We'd 'a' gone antelope shooting tomorrow, and the next day we'd 'a'—say, + what you stopping for?” he added, interrupting himself. “What's up?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist had paused abruptly on the crest of a cañón. Cribbens, looking + back, saw him standing motionless in his tracks. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” asked Cribbens a second time. + </p> + <p> + McTeague slowly turned his head and looked over one shoulder, then over + the other. Suddenly he wheeled sharply about, cocking the Winchester and + tossing it to his shoulder. Cribbens ran back to his side, whipping out + his revolver. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he cried. “See anybody?” He peered on ahead through the + gathering twilight. + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear anything?” + </p> + <p> + “No, didn't hear anything.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then? What's up?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know, I don' know,” muttered the dentist, lowering the rifle. + “There was something.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Something—didn't you notice?” + </p> + <p> + “Notice what?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' know. Something—something or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? What? Notice what? What did you see?” + </p> + <p> + The dentist let down the hammer of the rifle. + </p> + <p> + “I guess it wasn't anything,” he said rather foolishly. + </p> + <p> + “What d'you think you saw—anybody on the claim?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see anything. I didn't hear anything either. I had an idea, + that's all; came all of a sudden, like that. Something, I don' know what.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you just imagined something. There ain't anybody within twenty + miles of us, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I guess so, just imagined it, that's the word.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later they had the fire going. McTeague was frying strips of + bacon over the coals, and Cribbens was still chattering and exclaiming + over their great strike. All at once McTeague put down the frying-pan. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Hey? What's what?” exclaimed Cribbens, getting up. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you notice something?” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Off there.” The dentist made a vague gesture toward the eastern horizon. + “Didn't you hear something—I mean see something—I mean—” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you, pardner?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I guess I just imagined it.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not imagination. Until midnight the partners lay broad awake, + rolled in their blankets under the open sky, talking and discussing and + making plans. At last Cribbens rolled over on his side and slept. The + dentist could not sleep. + </p> + <p> + What! It was warning him again, that strange sixth sense, that obscure + brute instinct. It was aroused again and clamoring to be obeyed. Here, in + these desolate barren hills, twenty miles from the nearest human being, it + stirred and woke and rowelled him to be moving on. It had goaded him to + flight from the Big Dipper mine, and he had obeyed. But now it was + different; now he had suddenly become rich; he had lighted on a treasure—a + treasure far more valuable than the Big Dipper mine itself. How was he to + leave that? He could not move on now. He turned about in his blankets. No, + he would not move on. Perhaps it was his fancy, after all. He saw nothing, + heard nothing. The emptiness of primeval desolation stretched from him + leagues and leagues upon either hand. The gigantic silence of the night + lay close over everything, like a muffling Titanic palm. Of what was he + suspicious? In that treeless waste an object could be seen at half a day's + journey distant. In that vast silence the click of a pebble was as audible + as a pistol-shot. And yet there was nothing, nothing. + </p> + <p> + The dentist settled himself in his blankets and tried to sleep. In five + minutes he was sitting up, staring into the blue-gray shimmer of the + moonlight, straining his ears, watching and listening intently. Nothing + was in sight. The browned and broken flanks of the Panamint hills lay + quiet and familiar under the moon. The burro moved its head with a + clinking of its bell; and McTeagues mule, dozing on three legs, changed + its weight to another foot, with a long breath. Everything fell silent + again. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” muttered the dentist. “If I could only see something, hear + something.” + </p> + <p> + He threw off the blankets, and, rising, climbed to the summit of the + nearest hill and looked back in the direction in which he and Cribbens had + travelled a fortnight before. For half an hour he waited, watching and + listening in vain. But as he returned to camp, and prepared to roll his + blankets about him, the strange impulse rose in him again abruptly, never + so strong, never so insistent. It seemed as though he were bitted and + ridden; as if some unseen hand were turning him toward the east; some + unseen heel spurring him to precipitate and instant flight. + </p> + <p> + Flight from what? “No,” he muttered under his breath. “Go now and leave + the claim, and leave a fortune! What a fool I'd be, when I can't see + anything or hear anything. To leave a fortune! No, I won't. No, by God!” + He drew Cribbens's Winchester toward him and slipped a cartridge into the + magazine. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he growled. “Whatever happens, I'm going to stay. If anybody comes—” + He depressed the lever of the rifle, and sent the cartridge clashing into + the breech. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't going to sleep,” he muttered under his mustache. “I can't sleep; + I'll watch.” He rose a second time, clambered to the nearest hilltop and + sat down, drawing the blanket around him, and laying the Winchester across + his knees. The hours passed. The dentist sat on the hilltop a motionless, + crouching figure, inky black against the pale blur of the sky. By and by + the edge of the eastern horizon began to grow blacker and more distinct in + out-line. The dawn was coming. Once more McTeague felt the mysterious + intuition of approaching danger; an unseen hand seemed reining his head + eastward; a spur was in his flanks that seemed to urge him to hurry, + hurry, hurry. The influence grew stronger with every moment. The dentist + set his great jaws together and held his ground. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he growled between his set teeth. “No, I'll stay.” He made a long + circuit around the camp, even going as far as the first stake of the new + claim, his Winchester cocked, his ears pricked, his eyes alert. There was + nothing; yet as plainly as though it were shouted at the very nape of his + neck he felt an enemy. It was not fear. McTeague was not afraid. + </p> + <p> + “If I could only SEE something—somebody,” he muttered, as he held + the cocked rifle ready, “I—I'd show him.” + </p> + <p> + He returned to camp. Cribbens was snoring. The burro had come down to the + stream for its morning drink. The mule was awake and browsing. McTeague + stood irresolutely by the cold ashes of the camp-fire, looking from side + to side with all the suspicion and wariness of a tracked stag. Stronger + and stronger grew the strange impulse. It seemed to him that on the next + instant he MUST perforce wheel sharply eastward and rush away headlong in + a clumsy, lumbering gallop. He fought against it with all the ferocious + obstinacy of his simple brute nature. + </p> + <p> + “Go, and leave the mine? Go and leave a million dollars? No, NO, I won't + go. No, I'll stay. Ah,” he exclaimed, under his breath, with a shake of + his huge head, like an exasperated and harassed brute, “ah, show yourself, + will you?” He brought the rifle to his shoulder and covered point after + point along the range of hills to the west. “Come on, show yourself. Come + on a little, all of you. I ain't afraid of you; but don't skulk this way. + You ain't going to drive me away from my mine. I'm going to stay.” + </p> + <p> + An hour passed. Then two. The stars winked out, and the dawn whitened. The + air became warmer. The whole east, clean of clouds, flamed opalescent from + horizon to zenith, crimson at the base, where the earth blackened against + it; at the top fading from pink to pale yellow, to green, to light blue, + to the turquoise iridescence of the desert sky. The long, thin shadows of + the early hours drew backward like receding serpents, then suddenly the + sun looked over the shoulder of the world, and it was day. + </p> + <p> + At that moment McTeague was already eight miles away from the camp, going + steadily eastward. He was descending the lowest spurs of the Panamint + hills, following an old and faint cattle trail. Before him he drove his + mule, laden with blankets, provisions for six days, Cribben's rifle, and a + canteen full of water. Securely bound to the pommel of the saddle was the + canvas sack with its precious five thousand dollars, all in twenty-dollar + gold pieces. But strange enough in that horrid waste of sand and sage was + the object that McTeague himself persistently carried—the canary in + its cage, about which he had carefully wrapped a couple of old flour-bags. + </p> + <p> + At about five o'clock that morning McTeague had crossed several trails + which seemed to be converging, and, guessing that they led to a water + hole, had followed one of them and had brought up at a sort of small + sundried sink which nevertheless contained a little water at the bottom. + He had watered the mule here, refilled the canteen, and drank deep + himself. He had also dampened the old flour-sacks around the bird cage to + protect the little canary as far as possible from the heat that he knew + would increase now with every hour. He had made ready to go forward again, + but had paused irresolute again, hesitating for the last time. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a fool,” he growled, scowling back at the range behind him. “I'm a + fool. What's the matter with me? I'm just walking right away from a + million dollars. I know it's there. No, by God!” he exclaimed, savagely, + “I ain't going to do it. I'm going back. I can't leave a mine like that.” + He had wheeled the mule about, and had started to return on his tracks, + grinding his teeth fiercely, inclining his head forward as though butting + against a wind that would beat him back. “Go on, go on,” he cried, + sometimes addressing the mule, sometimes himself. “Go on, go back, go + back. I WILL go back.” It was as though he were climbing a hill that grew + steeper with every stride. The strange impelling instinct fought his + advance yard by yard. By degrees the dentist's steps grew slower; he + stopped, went forward again cautiously, almost feeling his way, like + someone approaching a pit in the darkness. He stopped again, hesitating, + gnashing his teeth, clinching his fists with blind fury. Suddenly he + turned the mule about, and once more set his face to the eastward. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” he cried aloud to the desert; “I can't, I can't. It's stronger + than I am. I CAN'T go back. Hurry now, hurry, hurry, hurry.” + </p> + <p> + He hastened on furtively, his head and shoulders bent. At times one could + almost say he crouched as he pushed forward with long strides; now and + then he even looked over his shoulder. Sweat rolled from him, he lost his + hat, and the matted mane of thick yellow hair swept over his forehead and + shaded his small, twinkling eyes. At times, with a vague, nearly automatic + gesture, he reached his hand forward, the fingers prehensile, and directed + towards the horizon, as if he would clutch it and draw it nearer; and at + intervals he muttered, “Hurry, hurry, hurry on, hurry on.” For now at last + McTeague was afraid. + </p> + <p> + His plans were uncertain. He remembered what Cribbens had said about the + Armagosa Mountains in the country on the other side of Death Valley. It + was all hell to get into that country, Cribbens had said, and not many men + went there, because of the terrible valley of alkali that barred the way, + a horrible vast sink of white sand and salt below even the sea level, the + dry bed, no doubt, of some prehistoric lake. But McTeague resolved to make + a circuit of the valley, keeping to the south, until he should strike the + Armagosa River. He would make a circuit of the valley and come up on the + other side. He would get into that country around Gold Mountain in the + Armagosa hills, barred off from the world by the leagues of the red-hot + alkali of Death Valley. “They” would hardly reach him there. He would stay + at Gold Mountain two or three months, and then work his way down into + Mexico. + </p> + <p> + McTeague tramped steadily forward, still descending the lower + irregularities of the Panamint Range. By nine o'clock the slope flattened + out abruptly; the hills were behind him; before him, to the east, all was + level. He had reached the region where even the sand and sage-brush begin + to dwindle, giving place to white, powdered alkali. The trails were + numerous, but old and faint; and they had been made by cattle, not by men. + They led in all directions but one—north, south, and west; but not + one, however faint, struck out towards the valley. + </p> + <p> + “If I keep along the edge of the hills where these trails are,” muttered + the dentist, “I ought to find water up in the arroyos from time to time.” + </p> + <p> + At once he uttered an exclamation. The mule had begun to squeal and lash + out with alternate hoofs, his eyes rolling, his ears flattened. He ran a + few steps, halted, and squealed again. Then, suddenly wheeling at right + angles, set off on a jog trot to the north, squealing and kicking from + time to time. McTeague ran after him shouting and swearing, but for a long + time the mule would not allow himself to be caught. He seemed more + bewildered than frightened. + </p> + <p> + “He's eatun some of that loco-weed that Cribbens spoke about,” panted + McTeague. “Whoa, there; steady, you.” At length the mule stopped of his + own accord, and seemed to come to his senses again. McTeague came up and + took the bridle rein, speaking to him and rubbing his nose. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, what's the matter with you?” The mule was docile again. + McTeague washed his mouth and set forward once more. + </p> + <p> + The day was magnificent. From horizon to horizon was one vast span of + blue, whitening as it dipped earthward. Miles upon miles to the east and + southeast the desert unrolled itself, white, naked, inhospitable, + palpitating and shimmering under the sun, unbroken by so much as a rock or + cactus stump. In the distance it assumed all manner of faint colors, pink, + purple, and pale orange. To the west rose the Panamint Range, sparsely + sprinkled with gray sagebrush; here the earths and sands were yellow, + ochre, and rich, deep red, the hollows and cañóns picked out with intense + blue shadows. It seemed strange that such barrenness could exhibit this + radiance of color, but nothing could have been more beautiful than the + deep red of the higher bluffs and ridges, seamed with purple shadows, + standing sharply out against the pale-blue whiteness of the horizon. + </p> + <p> + By nine o'clock the sun stood high in the sky. The heat was intense; the + atmosphere was thick and heavy with it. McTeague gasped for breath and + wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead, his cheeks, and his + neck. Every inch and pore of his skin was tingling and pricking under the + merciless lash of the sun's rays. + </p> + <p> + “If it gets much hotter,” he muttered, with a long breath, “if it gets + much hotter, I—I don' know—” He wagged his head and wiped the + sweat from his eyelids, where it was running like tears. + </p> + <p> + The sun rose higher; hour by hour, as the dentist tramped steadily on, the + heat increased. The baked dry sand crackled into innumerable tiny flakes + under his feet. The twigs of the sage-brush snapped like brittle pipestems + as he pushed through them. It grew hotter. At eleven the earth was like + the surface of a furnace; the air, as McTeague breathed it in, was hot to + his lips and the roof of his mouth. The sun was a disk of molten brass + swimming in the burnt-out blue of the sky. McTeague stripped off his + woollen shirt, and even unbuttoned his flannel undershirt, tying a + handkerchief loosely about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” he exclaimed. “I never knew it COULD get as hot as this.” + </p> + <p> + The heat grew steadily fiercer; all distant objects were visibly + shimmering and palpitating under it. At noon a mirage appeared on the + hills to the northwest. McTeague halted the mule, and drank from the tepid + water in the canteen, dampening the sack around the canary's cage. As soon + as he ceased his tramp and the noise of his crunching, grinding footsteps + died away, the silence, vast, illimitable, enfolded him like an + immeasurable tide. From all that gigantic landscape, that colossal reach + of baking sand, there arose not a single sound. Not a twig rattled, not an + insect hummed, not a bird or beast invaded that huge solitude with call or + cry. Everything as far as the eye could reach, to north, to south, to + east, and west, lay inert, absolutely quiet and moveless under the + remorseless scourge of the noon sun. The very shadows shrank away, hiding + under sage-bushes, retreating to the farthest nooks and crevices in the + cañóns of the hills. All the world was one gigantic blinding glare, + silent, motionless. “If it gets much hotter,” murmured the dentist again, + moving his head from side to side, “if it gets much hotter, I don' know + what I'll do.” + </p> + <p> + Steadily the heat increased. At three o'clock it was even more terrible + than it had been at noon. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it EVER going to let up?” groaned the dentist, rolling his eyes at + the sky of hot blue brass. Then, as he spoke, the stillness was abruptly + stabbed through and through by a shrill sound that seemed to come from all + sides at once. It ceased; then, as McTeague took another forward step, + began again with the suddenness of a blow, shriller, nearer at hand, a + hideous, prolonged note that brought both man and mule to an instant halt. + </p> + <p> + “I know what THAT is,” exclaimed the dentist. His eyes searched the ground + swiftly until he saw what he expected he should see—the round thick + coil, the slowly waving clover-shaped head and erect whirring tail with + its vibrant rattles. + </p> + <p> + For fully thirty seconds the man and snake remained looking into each + other's eyes. Then the snake uncoiled and swiftly wound from sight amidst + the sagebrush. McTeague drew breath again, and his eyes once more beheld + the illimitable leagues of quivering sand and alkali. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! What a country!” he exclaimed. But his voice was trembling as + he urged forward the mule once more. + </p> + <p> + Fiercer and fiercer grew the heat as the afternoon advanced. At four + McTeague stopped again. He was dripping at every pore, but there was no + relief in perspiration. The very touch of his clothes upon his body was + unendurable. The mule's ears were drooping and his tongue lolled from his + mouth. The cattle trails seemed to be drawing together toward a common + point; perhaps a water hole was near by. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to lay up, sure,” muttered the dentist. “I ain't made to travel + in such heat as this.” + </p> + <p> + He drove the mule up into one of the larger cañóns and halted in the + shadow of a pile of red rock. After a long search he found water, a few + quarts, warm and brackish, at the bottom of a hollow of sunwracked mud; it + was little more than enough to water the mule and refill his canteen. Here + he camped, easing the mule of the saddle, and turning him loose to find + what nourishment he might. A few hours later the sun set in a cloudless + glory of red and gold, and the heat became by degrees less intolerable. + McTeague cooked his supper, chiefly coffee and bacon, and watched the + twilight come on, revelling in the delicious coolness of the evening. As + he spread his blankets on the ground he resolved that hereafter he would + travel only at night, laying up in the daytime in the shade of the cañóns. + He was exhausted with his terrible day's march. Never in his life had + sleep seemed so sweet to him. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly he was broad awake, his jaded senses all alert. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” he muttered. “I thought I heard something—saw + something.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet, reaching for the Winchester. Desolation lay still + around him. There was not a sound but his own breathing; on the face of + the desert not a grain of sand was in motion. McTeague looked furtively + and quickly from side to side, his teeth set, his eyes rolling. Once more + the rowel was in his flanks, once more an unseen hand reined him toward + the east. After all the miles of that dreadful day's flight he was no + better off than when he started. If anything, he was worse, for never had + that mysterious instinct in him been more insistent than now; never had + the impulse toward precipitate flight been stronger; never had the spur + bit deeper. Every nerve of his body cried aloud for rest; yet every + instinct seemed aroused and alive, goading him to hurry on, to hurry on. + </p> + <p> + “What IS it, then? What is it?” he cried, between his teeth. “Can't I ever + get rid of you? Ain't I EVER going to shake you off? Don' keep it up this + way. Show yourselves. Let's have it out right away. Come on. I ain't + afraid if you'll only come on; but don't skulk this way.” Suddenly he + cried aloud in a frenzy of exasperation, “Damn you, come on, will you? + Come on and have it out.” His rifle was at his shoulder, he was covering + bush after bush, rock after rock, aiming at every denser shadow. All at + once, and quite involuntarily, his forefinger crooked, and the rifle spoke + and flamed. The cañóns roared back the echo, tossing it out far over the + desert in a rippling, widening wave of sound. + </p> + <p> + McTeague lowered the rifle hastily, with an exclamation of dismay. + </p> + <p> + “You fool,” he said to himself, “you fool. You've done it now. They could + hear that miles away. You've done it now.” + </p> + <p> + He stood listening intently, the rifle smoking in his hands. The last echo + died away. The smoke vanished, the vast silence closed upon the passing + echoes of the rifle as the ocean closes upon a ship's wake. Nothing moved; + yet McTeague bestirred himself sharply, rolling up his blankets, + resaddling the mule, getting his outfit together again. From time to time + he muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Hurry now; hurry on. You fool, you've done it now. They could hear that + miles away. Hurry now. They ain't far off now.” + </p> + <p> + As he depressed the lever of the rifle to reload it, he found that the + magazine was empty. He clapped his hands to his sides, feeling rapidly + first in one pocket, then in another. He had forgotten to take extra + cartridges with him. McTeague swore under his breath as he flung the rifle + away. Henceforth he must travel unarmed. + </p> + <p> + A little more water had gathered in the mud hole near which he had camped. + He watered the mule for the last time and wet the sacks around the + canary's cage. Then once more he set forward. + </p> + <p> + But there was a change in the direction of McTeague's flight. Hitherto he + had held to the south, keeping upon the very edge of the hills; now he + turned sharply at right angles. The slope fell away beneath his hurrying + feet; the sage-brush dwindled, and at length ceased; the sand gave place + to a fine powder, white as snow; and an hour after he had fired the rifle + his mule's hoofs were crisping and cracking the sun-baked flakes of alkali + on the surface of Death Valley. + </p> + <p> + Tracked and harried, as he felt himself to be, from one camping place to + another, McTeague had suddenly resolved to make one last effort to rid + himself of the enemy that seemed to hang upon his heels. He would strike + straight out into that horrible wilderness where even the beasts were + afraid. He would cross Death Valley at once and put its arid wastes + between him and his pursuer. + </p> + <p> + “You don't dare follow me now,” he muttered, as he hurried on. “Let's see + you come out HERE after me.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried on swiftly, urging the mule to a rapid racking walk. Towards + four o'clock the sky in front of him began to flush pink and golden. + McTeague halted and breakfasted, pushing on again immediately afterward. + The dawn flamed and glowed like a brazier, and the sun rose a vast red-hot + coal floating in fire. An hour passed, then another, and another. It was + about nine o'clock. Once more the dentist paused, and stood panting and + blowing, his arms dangling, his eyes screwed up and blinking as he looked + about him. + </p> + <p> + Far behind him the Panamint hills were already but blue hummocks on the + horizon. Before him and upon either side, to the north and to the east and + to the south, stretched primordial desolation. League upon league the + infinite reaches of dazzling white alkali laid themselves out like an + immeasurable scroll unrolled from horizon to horizon; not a bush, not a + twig relieved that horrible monotony. Even the sand of the desert would + have been a welcome sight; a single clump of sage-brush would have + fascinated the eye; but this was worse than the desert. It was abominable, + this hideous sink of alkali, this bed of some primeval lake lying so far + below the level of the ocean. The great mountains of Placer County had + been merely indifferent to man; but this awful sink of alkali was openly + and unreservedly iniquitous and malignant. + </p> + <p> + McTeague had told himself that the heat upon the lower slopes of the + Panamint had been dreadful; here in Death Valley it became a thing of + terror. There was no longer any shadow but his own. He was scorched and + parched from head to heel. It seemed to him that the smart of his tortured + body could not have been keener if he had been flayed. + </p> + <p> + “If it gets much hotter,” he muttered, wringing the sweat from his thick + fell of hair and mustache, “if it gets much hotter, I don' know what I'll + do.” He was thirsty, and drank a little from his canteen. “I ain't got any + too much water,” he murmured, shaking the canteen. “I got to get out of + this place in a hurry, sure.” + </p> + <p> + By eleven o'clock the heat had increased to such an extent that McTeague + could feel the burning of the ground come pringling and stinging through + the soles of his boots. Every step he took threw up clouds of impalpable + alkali dust, salty and choking, so that he strangled and coughed and + sneezed with it. + </p> + <p> + “LORD! what a country!” exclaimed the dentist. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, the mule stopped and lay down, his jaws wide open, his ears + dangling. McTeague washed his mouth with a handful of water and for a + second time since sunrise wetted the flour-sacks around the bird cage. The + air was quivering and palpitating like that in the stoke-hold of a + steamship. The sun, small and contracted, swam molten overhead. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand it,” said McTeague at length. “I'll have to stop and make + some kinda shade.” + </p> + <p> + The mule was crouched upon the ground, panting rapidly, with half-closed + eyes. The dentist removed the saddle, and unrolling his blanket, propped + it up as best he could between him and the sun. As he stooped down to + crawl beneath it, his palm touched the ground. He snatched it away with a + cry of pain. The surface alkali was oven-hot; he was obliged to scoop out + a trench in it before he dared to lie down. + </p> + <p> + By degrees the dentist began to doze. He had had little or no sleep the + night before, and the hurry of his flight under the blazing sun had + exhausted him. But his rest was broken; between waking and sleeping, all + manner of troublous images galloped through his brain. He thought he was + back in the Panamint hills again with Cribbens. They had just discovered + the mine and were returning toward camp. McTeague saw himself as another + man, striding along over the sand and sagebrush. At once he saw himself + stop and wheel sharply about, peering back suspiciously. There was + something behind him; something was following him. He looked, as it were, + over the shoulder of this other McTeague, and saw down there, in the half + light of the cañón, something dark crawling upon the ground, an indistinct + gray figure, man or brute, he did not know. Then he saw another, and + another; then another. A score of black, crawling objects were following + him, crawling from bush to bush, converging upon him. “THEY” were after + him, were closing in upon him, were within touch of his hand, were at his + feet—WERE AT HIS THROAT. + </p> + <p> + McTeague jumped up with a shout, oversetting the blanket. There was + nothing in sight. For miles around, the alkali was empty, solitary, + quivering and shimmering under the pelting fire of the afternoon's sun. + </p> + <p> + But once more the spur bit into his body, goading him on. There was to be + no rest, no going back, no pause, no stop. Hurry, hurry, hurry on. The + brute that in him slept so close to the surface was alive and alert, and + tugging to be gone. There was no resisting that instinct. The brute felt + an enemy, scented the trackers, clamored and struggled and fought, and + would not be gainsaid. + </p> + <p> + “I CAN'T go on,” groaned McTeague, his eyes sweeping the horizon behind + him, “I'm beat out. I'm dog tired. I ain't slept any for two nights.” But + for all that he roused himself again, saddled the mule, scarcely less + exhausted than himself, and pushed on once more over the scorching alkali + and under the blazing sun. + </p> + <p> + From that time on the fear never left him, the spur never ceased to bite, + the instinct that goaded him to fight never was dumb; hurry or halt, it + was all the same. On he went, straight on, chasing the receding horizon; + flagellated with heat; tortured with thirst; crouching over; looking + furtively behind, and at times reaching his hand forward, the fingers + prehensile, grasping, as it were, toward the horizon, that always fled + before him. + </p> + <p> + The sun set upon the third day of McTeague's flight, night came on, the + stars burned slowly into the cool dark purple of the sky. The gigantic + sink of white alkali glowed like snow. McTeague, now far into the desert, + held steadily on, swinging forward with great strides. His enormous + strength held him doggedly to his work. Sullenly, with his huge jaws + gripping stolidly together, he pushed on. At midnight he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he growled, with a certain desperate defiance, as though he + expected to be heard, “now, I'm going to lay up and get some sleep. You + can come or not.” + </p> + <p> + He cleared away the hot surface alkali, spread out his blanket, and slept + until the next day's heat aroused him. His water was so low that he dared + not make coffee now, and so breakfasted without it. Until ten o'clock he + tramped forward, then camped again in the shade of one of the rare rock + ledges, and “lay up” during the heat of the day. By five o'clock he was + once more on the march. + </p> + <p> + He travelled on for the greater part of that night, stopping only once + towards three in the morning to water the mule from the canteen. Again the + red-hot day burned up over the horizon. Even at six o'clock it was hot. + </p> + <p> + “It's going to be worse than ever to-day,” he groaned. “I wish I could + find another rock to camp by. Ain't I ever going to get out of this + place?” + </p> + <p> + There was no change in the character of the desert. Always the same + measureless leagues of white-hot alkali stretched away toward the horizon + on every hand. Here and there the flat, dazzling surface of the desert + broke and raised into long low mounds, from the summit of which McTeague + could look for miles and miles over its horrible desolation. No shade was + in sight. Not a rock, not a stone broke the monotony of the ground. Again + and again he ascended the low unevennesses, looking and searching for a + camping place, shading his eyes from the glitter of sand and sky. + </p> + <p> + He tramped forward a little farther, then paused at length in a hollow + between two breaks, resolving to make camp there. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a shout. + </p> + <p> + “Hands up. By damn, I got the drop on you!” + </p> + <p> + McTeague looked up. + </p> + <p> + It was Marcus. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 22 + </h2> + <p> + Within a month after his departure from San Francisco, Marcus had “gone in + on a cattle ranch” in the Panamint Valley with an Englishman, an + acquaintance of Mr. Sieppe's. His headquarters were at a place called + Modoc, at the lower extremity of the valley, about fifty miles by trail to + the south of Keeler. + </p> + <p> + His life was the life of a cowboy. He realized his former vision of + himself, booted, sombreroed, and revolvered, passing his days in the + saddle and the better part of his nights around the poker tables in + Modoc's one saloon. To his intense satisfaction he even involved himself + in a gun fight that arose over a disputed brand, with the result that two + fingers of his left hand were shot away. + </p> + <p> + News from the outside world filtered slowly into the Panamint Valley, and + the telegraph had never been built beyond Keeler. At intervals one of the + local papers of Independence, the nearest large town, found its way into + the cattle camps on the ranges, and occasionally one of the Sunday + editions of a Sacramento journal, weeks old, was passed from hand to hand. + Marcus ceased to hear from the Sieppes. As for San Francisco, it was as + far from him as was London or Vienna. + </p> + <p> + One day, a fortnight after McTeague's flight from San Francisco, Marcus + rode into Modoc, to find a group of men gathered about a notice affixed to + the outside of the Wells-Fargo office. It was an offer of reward for the + arrest and apprehension of a murderer. The crime had been committed in San + Francisco, but the man wanted had been traced as far as the western + portion of Inyo County, and was believed at that time to be in hiding in + either the Pinto or Panamint hills, in the vicinity of Keeler. + </p> + <p> + Marcus reached Keeler on the afternoon of that same day. Half a mile from + the town his pony fell and died from exhaustion. Marcus did not stop even + to remove the saddle. He arrived in the barroom of the hotel in Keeler + just after the posse had been made up. The sheriff, who had come down from + Independence that morning, at first refused his offer of assistance. He + had enough men already—too many, in fact. The country travelled + through would be hard, and it would be difficult to find water for so many + men and horses. + </p> + <p> + “But none of you fellers have ever seen um,” vociferated Marcus, quivering + with excitement and wrath. “I know um well. I could pick um out in a + million. I can identify um, and you fellers can't. And I knew—I knew—good + GOD! I knew that girl—his wife—in Frisco. She's a cousin of + mine, she is—she was—I thought once of—This thing's a + personal matter of mine—an' that money he got away with, that five + thousand, belongs to me by rights. Oh, never mind, I'm going along. Do you + hear?” he shouted, his fists raised, “I'm going along, I tell you. There + ain't a man of you big enough to stop me. Let's see you try and stop me + going. Let's see you once, any two of you.” He filled the barroom with his + clamor. + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you, come along, then,” said the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + The posse rode out of Keeler that same night. The keeper of the general + merchandise store, from whom Marcus had borrowed a second pony, had + informed them that Cribbens and his partner, whose description tallied + exactly with that given in the notice of reward, had outfitted at his + place with a view to prospecting in the Panamint hills. The posse trailed + them at once to their first camp at the head of the valley. It was an easy + matter. It was only necessary to inquire of the cowboys and range riders + of the valley if they had seen and noted the passage of two men, one of + whom carried a bird cage. + </p> + <p> + Beyond this first camp the trail was lost, and a week was wasted in a + bootless search around the mine at Gold Gulch, whither it seemed probable + the partners had gone. Then a travelling peddler, who included Gold Gulch + in his route, brought in the news of a wonderful strike of gold-bearing + quartz some ten miles to the south on the western slope of the range. Two + men from Keeler had made a strike, the peddler had said, and added the + curious detail that one of the men had a canary bird in a cage with him. + </p> + <p> + The posse made Cribbens's camp three days after the unaccountable + disappearance of his partner. Their man was gone, but the narrow hoof + prints of a mule, mixed with those of huge hob-nailed boots, could be + plainly followed in the sand. Here they picked up the trail and held to it + steadily till the point was reached where, instead of tending southward it + swerved abruptly to the east. The men could hardly believe their eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't reason,” exclaimed the sheriff. “What in thunder is he up to? + This beats me. Cutting out into Death Valley at this time of year.” + </p> + <p> + “He's heading for Gold Mountain over in the Armagosa, sure.” + </p> + <p> + The men decided that this conjecture was true. It was the only inhabited + locality in that direction. A discussion began as to the further movements + of the posse. + </p> + <p> + “I don't figure on going into that alkali sink with no eight men and + horses,” declared the sheriff. “One man can't carry enough water to take + him and his mount across, let alone EIGHT. No, sir. Four couldn't do it. + No, THREE couldn't. We've got to make a circuit round the valley and come + up on the other side and head him off at Gold Mountain. That's what we got + to do, and ride like hell to do it, too.” + </p> + <p> + But Marcus protested with all the strength of his lungs against abandoning + the trail now that they had found it. He argued that they were but a day + and a half behind their man now. There was no possibility of their missing + the trail—as distinct in the white alkali as in snow. They could + make a dash into the valley, secure their man, and return long before + their water failed them. He, for one, would not give up the pursuit, now + that they were so close. In the haste of the departure from Keeler the + sheriff had neglected to swear him in. He was under no orders. He would do + as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, then, you darn fool,” answered the sheriff. “We'll cut on round + the valley, for all that. It's a gamble he'll be at Gold Mountain before + you're half way across. But if you catch him, here”—he tossed Marcus + a pair of handcuffs—“put 'em on him and bring him back to Keeler.” + </p> + <p> + Two days after he had left the posse, and when he was already far out in + the desert, Marcus's horse gave out. In the fury of his impatience he had + spurred mercilessly forward on the trail, and on the morning of the third + day found that his horse was unable to move. The joints of his legs seemed + locked rigidly. He would go his own length, stumbling and interfering, + then collapse helplessly upon the ground with a pitiful groan. He was used + up. + </p> + <p> + Marcus believed himself to be close upon McTeague now. The ashes at his + last camp had still been smoldering. Marcus took what supplies of food and + water he could carry, and hurried on. But McTeague was farther ahead than + he had guessed, and by evening of his third day upon the desert Marcus, + raging with thirst, had drunk his last mouthful of water and had flung + away the empty canteen. + </p> + <p> + “If he ain't got water with um,” he said to himself as he pushed on, “If + he ain't got water with um, by damn! I'll be in a bad way. I will, for a + fact.” + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + At Marcus's shout McTeague looked up and around him. For the instant he + saw no one. The white glare of alkali was still unbroken. Then his swiftly + rolling eyes lighted upon a head and shoulder that protruded above the low + crest of the break directly in front of him. A man was there, lying at + full length upon the ground, covering him with a revolver. For a few + seconds McTeague looked at the man stupidly, bewildered, confused, as yet + without definite thought. Then he noticed that the man was singularly like + Marcus Schouler. It WAS Marcus Schouler. How in the world did Marcus + Schouler come to be in that desert? What did he mean by pointing a pistol + at him that way? He'd best look out or the pistol would go off. Then his + thoughts readjusted themselves with a swiftness born of a vivid sense of + danger. Here was the enemy at last, the tracker he had felt upon his + footsteps. Now at length he had “come on” and shown himself, after all + those days of skulking. McTeague was glad of it. He'd show him now. They + two would have it out right then and there. His rifle! He had thrown it + away long since. He was helpless. Marcus had ordered him to put up his + hands. If he did not, Marcus would kill him. He had the drop on him. + McTeague stared, scowling fiercely at the levelled pistol. He did not + move. + </p> + <p> + “Hands up!” shouted Marcus a second time. “I'll give you three to do it + in. One, two——” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively McTeague put his hands above his head. + </p> + <p> + Marcus rose and came towards him over the break. + </p> + <p> + “Keep 'em up,” he cried. “If you move 'em once I'll kill you, sure.” + </p> + <p> + He came up to McTeague and searched him, going through his pockets; but + McTeague had no revolver; not even a hunting knife. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do with that money, with that five thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “It's on the mule,” answered McTeague, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + Marcus grunted, and cast a glance at the mule, who was standing some + distance away, snorting nervously, and from time to time flattening his + long ears. + </p> + <p> + “Is that it there on the horn of the saddle, there in that canvas sack?” + Marcus demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of satisfaction came into Marcus's eyes, and under his breath he + muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Got it at last.” + </p> + <p> + He was singularly puzzled to know what next to do. He had got McTeague. + There he stood at length, with his big hands over his head, scowling at + him sullenly. Marcus had caught his enemy, had run down the man for whom + every officer in the State had been looking. What should he do with him + now? He couldn't keep him standing there forever with his hands over his + head. + </p> + <p> + “Got any water?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “There's a canteen of water on the mule.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus moved toward the mule and made as if to reach the bridle-rein. The + mule squealed, threw up his head, and galloped to a little distance, + rolling his eyes and flattening his ears. + </p> + <p> + Marcus swore wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + “He acted that way once before,” explained McTeague, his hands still in + the air. “He ate some loco-weed back in the hills before I started.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Marcus hesitated. While he was catching the mule McTeague + might get away. But where to, in heaven's name? A rat could not hide on + the surface of that glistening alkali, and besides, all McTeague's store + of provisions and his priceless supply of water were on the mule. Marcus + ran after the mule, revolver in hand, shouting and cursing. But the mule + would not be caught. He acted as if possessed, squealing, lashing out, and + galloping in wide circles, his head high in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” shouted Marcus, furious, turning back to McTeague. “Come on, + help me catch him. We got to catch him. All the water we got is on the + saddle.” + </p> + <p> + McTeague came up. + </p> + <p> + “He's eatun some loco-weed,” he repeated. “He went kinda crazy once + before.” + </p> + <p> + “If he should take it into his head to bolt and keep on running——” + </p> + <p> + Marcus did not finish. A sudden great fear seemed to widen around and + inclose the two men. Once their water gone, the end would not be long. + </p> + <p> + “We can catch him all right,” said the dentist. “I caught him once + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess we can catch him,” answered Marcus, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + Already the sense of enmity between the two had weakened in the face of a + common peril. Marcus let down the hammer of his revolver and slid it back + into the holster. + </p> + <p> + The mule was trotting on ahead, snorting and throwing up great clouds of + alkali dust. At every step the canvas sack jingled, and McTeague's bird + cage, still wrapped in the flour-bags, bumped against the saddlepads. By + and by the mule stopped, blowing out his nostrils excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “He's clean crazy,” fumed Marcus, panting and swearing. + </p> + <p> + “We ought to come up on him quiet,” observed McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try and sneak up,” said Marcus; “two of us would scare him again. + You stay here.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus went forward a step at a time. He was almost within arm's length of + the bridle when the mule shied from him abruptly and galloped away. + </p> + <p> + Marcus danced with rage, shaking his fists, and swearing horribly. Some + hundred yards away the mule paused and began blowing and snuffing in the + alkali as though in search of feed. Then, for no reason, he shied again, + and started off on a jog trot toward the east. + </p> + <p> + “We've GOT to follow him,” exclaimed Marcus as McTeague came up. “There's + no water within seventy miles of here.” + </p> + <p> + Then began an interminable pursuit. Mile after mile, under the terrible + heat of the desert sun, the two men followed the mule, racked with a + thirst that grew fiercer every hour. A dozen times they could almost touch + the canteen of water, and as often the distraught animal shied away and + fled before them. At length Marcus cried: + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, we can't catch him, and we're killing ourselves with thirst. + We got to take our chances.” He drew his revolver from its holster, cocked + it, and crept forward. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, now,” said McTeague; “it won' do to shoot through the canteen.” + </p> + <p> + Within twenty yards Marcus paused, made a rest of his left forearm and + fired. + </p> + <p> + “You GOT him,” cried McTeague. “No, he's up again. Shoot him again. He's + going to bolt.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus ran on, firing as he ran. The mule, one foreleg trailing, scrambled + along, squealing and snorting. Marcus fired his last shot. The mule + pitched forward upon his head, then, rolling sideways, fell upon the + canteen, bursting it open and spilling its entire contents into the sand. + </p> + <p> + Marcus and McTeague ran up, and Marcus snatched the battered canteen from + under the reeking, bloody hide. There was no water left. Marcus flung the + canteen from him and stood up, facing McTeague. There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “We're dead men,” said Marcus. + </p> + <p> + McTeague looked from him out over the desert. Chaotic desolation stretched + from them on either hand, flaming and glaring with the afternoon heat. + There was the brazen sky and the leagues upon leagues of alkali, leper + white. There was nothing more. They were in the heart of Death Valley. + </p> + <p> + “Not a drop of water,” muttered McTeague; “not a drop of water.” + </p> + <p> + “We can drink the mule's blood,” said Marcus. “It's been done before. But—but—” + he looked down at the quivering, gory body—“but I ain't thirsty + enough for that yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the nearest water?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's about a hundred miles or more back of us in the Panamint + hills,” returned Marcus, doggedly. “We'd be crazy long before we reached + it. I tell you, we're done for, by damn, we're DONE for. We ain't ever + going to get outa here.” + </p> + <p> + “Done for?” murmured the other, looking about stupidly. “Done for, that's + the word. Done for? Yes, I guess we're done for.” + </p> + <p> + “What are we going to do NOW?” exclaimed Marcus, sharply, after a while. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let's—let's be moving along—somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “WHERE, I'd like to know? What's the good of moving on?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the good of stopping here?” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, it's hot,” said the dentist, finally, wiping his forehead with the + back of his hand. Marcus ground his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Done for,” he muttered; “done for.” + </p> + <p> + “I never WAS so thirsty,” continued McTeague. “I'm that dry I can hear my + tongue rubbing against the roof of my mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we can't stop here,” said Marcus, finally; “we got to go somewhere. + We'll try and get back, but it ain't no manner of use. Anything we want to + take along with us from the mule? We can——” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he paused. In an instant the eyes of the two doomed men had met + as the same thought simultaneously rose in their minds. The canvas sack + with its five thousand dollars was still tied to the horn of the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Marcus had emptied his revolver at the mule, and though he still wore his + cartridge belt, he was for the moment as unarmed as McTeague. + </p> + <p> + “I guess,” began McTeague coming forward a step, “I guess, even if we are + done for, I'll take—some of my truck along.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on,” exclaimed Marcus, with rising aggressiveness. “Let's talk about + that. I ain't so sure about who that—who that money belongs to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I AM, you see,” growled the dentist. + </p> + <p> + The old enmity between the two men, their ancient hate, was flaming up + again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't try an' load that gun either,” cried McTeague, fixing Marcus with + his little eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then don't lay your finger on that sack,” shouted the other. “You're my + prisoner, do you understand? You'll do as I say.” Marcus had drawn the + handcuffs from his pocket, and stood ready with his revolver held as a + club. “You soldiered me out of that money once, and played me for a + sucker, an' it's my turn now. Don't you lay your finger on that sack.” + </p> + <p> + Marcus barred McTeague's way, white with passion. McTeague did not answer. + His eyes drew to two fine, twinkling points, and his enormous hands + knotted themselves into fists, hard as wooden mallets. He moved a step + nearer to Marcus, then another. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the men grappled, and in another instant were rolling and + struggling upon the hot white ground. McTeague thrust Marcus backward + until he tripped and fell over the body of the dead mule. The little bird + cage broke from the saddle with the violence of their fall, and rolled out + upon the ground, the flour-bags slipping from it. McTeague tore the + revolver from Marcus's grip and struck out with it blindly. Clouds of + alkali dust, fine and pungent, enveloped the two fighting men, all but + strangling them. + </p> + <p> + McTeague did not know how he killed his enemy, but all at once Marcus grew + still beneath his blows. Then there was a sudden last return of energy. + McTeague's right wrist was caught, something clicked upon it, then the + struggling body fell limp and motionless with a long breath. + </p> + <p> + As McTeague rose to his feet, he felt a pull at his right wrist; something + held it fast. Looking down, he saw that Marcus in that last struggle had + found strength to handcuff their wrists together. Marcus was dead now; + McTeague was locked to the body. All about him, vast interminable, + stretched the measureless leagues of Death Valley. + </p> + <p> + McTeague remained stupidly looking around him, now at the distant horizon, + now at the ground, now at the half-dead canary chittering feebly in its + little gilt prison. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of McTeague, by Frank Norris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MCTEAGUE *** + +***** This file should be named 165-h.htm or 165-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/165/ + +Produced by Pauline J. 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